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THREE   CENTURIES    OF   SCOTTISH 
LITERATURE. 


PUBLISHED    BV 

JAMES  MACLEHOSE   AND  SONS,  GLASGOW, 
IPublish^rs  to  the  antbcrsitg. 

MACMILLAN   AND   CO.,   LONDON    AND   NEW   YORK, 
London,  -     ■     •     SiJnpkin,  Havtilton  atid  Co. 
Cambridge,  -     -     Macmillan  and  Boiues. 
Editiburgh,  ■     ■     Douglas  and  Fonlis. 

MDCCCXCIII. 


THREE    CENTURIES   OF 
SCOTTISH     LITERATURE 


BY 

HUGH  WALKER,  M.A. 

PROFESSOR   OF   ENGLISH    IN    ST.    OAVId's   COLLEGE,    LAMPETER 


VOL.    I 
THE   REFORMATION   TO   THE    UNION 


NEW    YORK 
MACMILLAN     AND     CO. 

1893 


V.I 


PREFACE. 


The  history  of  Scottish  literature  (under  which  term 
GaeHc  literature  is  not  here  included)  is  divisible  into 
two  great  periods.  The  first  extends  from  the  dawn  of 
letters  in  Scotland  to  the  time  when  the  desire  for  re- 
ligious reform  began  to  affect  literature  vitally ;  the  second 
starts  then,  and  extends  down  almost  to  the  present 
day.  Practically,  the  name  of  Lindsay  is  the  first  in 
the  second  period.  Though  he  lived  and  wrote  before 
the  formal  triumph  of  the  Reformation,  his  principal 
works  were  deeply  influenced  by  the  spirit  of  religious 
reform ;  and  there  is  none  of  his  predecessors  of  whom 
this  can  be  said.  The  lower  limit  of  the  period  is 
less  easily  fixed.  It  has  been  frequently  said,  and  I 
think  it  is  substantially  true,  that  a  really  national 
literature  can  no  longer  exist  on  a  great  scale  in  Scot- 
land. There  have  been  indeed  some  very  remarkable 
and  most  distinctively  Scottish  books  published  in  recent 
years.  It  would  be  most  ungrateful  on  the  part  of 
any  Scotchman  to  ignore  or  to  underrate  such  work  as 
that  of  Mr.  R.   L.   Stevenson  in  his  Kidnapped,  of  "  Hugh 


VI  PREFACE. 

Haliburton  "  in  his  Horace  in  Homespun,  or  of  Mr.  J.  M. 
Barrie  in  his  pictures  of  Thrums.  But  i)robably  these 
writers  would  be  among  the  first  to  acknowledge  that 
certain  changes  which  have  passed  over  the  country  since 
the  days  of  Scott  have  narrowed  the  range  of  such  work. 
The  cities  and  the  upper  classes  have  been  largely  Angli- 
cised. The  Scotland  of  Lord  Cockburn's  Memoirs,  with 
its  Scotch-speaking  Judges  of  Session,  and  its  ladies  of 
rank,  entirely  Scotch  both  in  language  and  habits,  is  gone. 
Well  marked  national  peculiarities  are  now  to  be  found 
principally  in  the  remoter  and  quieter  rural  districts,  and 
in  the  lower  classes  of  society.  On  the  whole,  it  seems 
best  to  regard  Scott  as  the  last  great  figure  in  the  Scotland 
which  was  the  outcome  of  the  Reformation. 

Of  the  two  periods  thus  defined,  I  have  tried  to  deal 
only  with  the  second.  The  history  of  the  earlier  period 
has  been  written  within  recent  years ;  and  probably  popu- 
lar curiosity  on  the  subject  is  satisfied.  There  is  however 
no  book  which  professes  to  do  what  I  have  here  attempted 
for  the  second  period.  My  object  has  been  to  trace  the 
literary  movement  for  the  three  centuries  between  Lindsay 
and  Scott.  In  order  to  do  so,  I  have  not  thought  it 
necessary  to  criticise,  or  even  to  mention,  all  the  writers 
who  flourished  in  Scotland  during  the  period  in  question. 
I  have  preferred  to  single  out  those  writers  or  groups  of 
writers  who  seemed  best  to  illustrate  different  aspects  of 
literature,  or  different  stages  of  its  progress.  Some  authors 
extremely  interesting  in  themselves,  as  for  example  Alex- 
ander Montgomery  and  Andrew  Fletcher  of  Saltoun,  are 
passed  over  because  they  were  somewhat  isolated,  and 
were  not  individually  great  enough  to  exercise  a  marked 


PREFACE.  VI 1 

influence.     A  number  of  much  smaller  men  are  criticised, 
because  they  happen  to  be  members  of  groups  which  are 
collectively  important.     I   have  omitted  others  again,  like 
the  historians  of  the  eighteenth  century,  because  it  seems 
to    me    that    they    almost    entirely    denationalised    them- 
selves.    It   is    not    merely   that    they   wrote    in    English  : 
several  of  the  chapters  which  follow  are   devoted  to  men 
who  likewise  wrote  in  English.       But   I  think  that  in  the 
Anglo-Scottish  poets  of  the  eighteenth  century  there  may 
be  detected  a  flavour  of  nationality,  which  is   less   easily 
perceived  in  Hume  and  Robertson  ;  while  their  brethren 
of  the  previous  century  are  interesting  just  because  their 
imitation    of    English    models    shows   what,    but   for    the 
struggle   between    Presbytery   and    Episcopacy,   the   union 
under  James  would  probably  have  made  Scottish  literature. 
There  are  others,  like  James  Hogg,  in  whom  the  national 
characteristics  are    prominent,    and   who   are   nevertheless 
omitted,    because    there    is    very    little    in    them    which 
cannot  be  illustrated  under  the  greater  names  of  Scott  and 
Burns.     My  aim   in   short  has  been,  not  to  include  every 
name,  but   rather   to   illustrate    every   considerable   n)ove- 
ment. 

A  word  of  explanation  may  be  necessary  as  to  the 
scope  of  this  book  in  respect  of  language.  I  have  stated 
above  the  reason  which  has  induced  me  to  examine  many 
who  wrote  in  English ;  but  it  may  seem  peculiar  that  I  have 
devoted  a  whole  chapter  to  a  writer  in  Latin.  The  reason 
is  that  in  a  literature  so  limited,  comparatively,  as  that 
of  Scotland,  Buchanan  is  too  great  a  figure,  both  for  his 
writings  and  for  his  personality,  to  be  neglected.  In  the 
same   way,    in    English    literature,    the   Latin    writings    of 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

Bacon  demand  a   recognition  which  is  not  given    to   the 
ordinary  Latinist. 

I  am  greatly  indebted  to  Professor  Henry  Jones,  of  St. 
Andrews,  who  has  read  both  the  manuscript  and  the  proofs, 
and  has  made  many  valuable  suggestions.  I  also  owe 
thanks  to  the  proprietors  of  the  Scots  Magazine,  who  have 
kindly  permitted  me  to  make  use  of  an  article  on  John 
Knox  which  appeared  there.  The  chapter  here  devoted 
to  Knox  is  however  more  comprehensive  in  its  aim  than 
that  article,  and  in  most  respects  different  from  it. 

HUGH   WALKER. 

December,  1892. 


CONTENTS    OF  VOLUME    I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   SCOTTISH   REFORMATION— LINDSAY  AND 
THE  WEDDERBURNS, 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  SCOTTISH  REFORMATION- 
GEORGE  BUCHANAN, 49 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  SCOTTISH  REFORMATION— JOHN  KNOX,      -  %i 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  ANGLO-SCOTTISH  POETS   OF  THE  SEVEN- 
TEENTH CENTURY,     129 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  POPULAR  BALLADS, 162 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  EARLIER  SONGS,  -------         193 


THREE   CENTURIES   OF   SCOTTISH 
LITERATURE. 

CHAPTER    I. 

THE  SCOTTISH   REFORMATION. 

LINDSA  V  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS. 

The  part  which  Hterature  played  in  the  movement  for 
religious  reform  in  Scotland  is  not  sufficiently  recognised. 
It  is  true  that  Protestantism,  after  it  had  attained  its  full 
stature  and  strength,  was  well  able  to  stand,  and  did 
stand,  alone  and  unsupported;  but  this  was  by  no  means 
the  case  in  the  period  of  immaturity.  At  that  time,  the 
support  which  the  Reformation  received  from  literature 
was  of  prime  importance.  The  principal,  though  not  the 
sole,  object  of  the  present  essay  is  to  illustrate  that  support, 
with  special  reference  to  the  poet  Lindsay  and  the 
brothers  Wedderburn. 

All  great  movements  are  heralded  by  premonitory 
mutterings.  We  date  the  beginning  of  the  Scottish  Refor- 
mation in  the  second  quarter  of  the  sixteenth  century; 
but  all  through  the  fifteenth,  indications,  scanty  but  suffi- 
cient, in  Acts  of  Parliament  and  prosecutions  for  heresy, 
show  that  the  religious  unrest  of  other  countries  extended 
to  Scotland.  Towards  its  close,  in  1494,  the  movement  of 
the    Lollards  of  Kyle  proved  that  the  discontent  was  be- 


2  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

ginning  to  take  definite  form.  But  the  Lollards  were  an 
solated  body ;  and  after  their  trial,  Knox  tells  us,  there  was 
hardly  any  question  of  religion  for  nearly  thirty  years. 
He  accordingly  begins  his  history  with  the  martyrdom  of 
Patrick  Hamilton  in  1528. 

In  literature  too  there  are  first  subdued  murmurs  or  special 
criticisms,  and  then,  after  an  interval,  a  determined  attack. 
About  the  time  when  the  Lollards  of  Kyle  were  raising 
their  protest  Dunbar  was  relieving  his  feelings  by  satire 
on  the   abuses  of  the  Church.      But   Dunbar  was  no  re- 
former either  of  religion  or  morals.     He  was  a  churchman 
who  wore  his  faith  loosely  but  without  much  questioning, 
and  his  discontent  arose  rather  from  personal   grievances 
than  from  a  sense  of  public  wrongs.     He  was  barely  touched 
with  the  spirit  of  the  Reformation.      And  for  some  time 
after  Dunbar  the  great  mass  of  the  scholarship  of  the  age 
ranged  itself  with  more  or  less  of  reservation  on  the  side  of 
the  ancient  faith.    It  could  not  be  otherwise.    The  lovers  of 
learning  were  naturally  attached  to  the  Church  which  had 
fostered  the  Universities  of  St.  Andrews,  Glasgow,  and  Aber- 
deen.    The  sense  of  personal  interest  weighed  in  the  same 
scale;  and  gratitude  and  hope  united  were  powerful  enough 
to  attach  to  Rome  those  literary  leaders  who  had  reached 
middle  age  before  the  burning  of  Hamilton.      Boece  and 
Major   were    both    of   the    Church    party,   and   Bellenden, 
though   he   was   a   younger   man,    adopted   similar   views. 
James  Inglis,  Abbot  of  Culross,  who  was  reputed   one  of 
the  best  poets  of  his  time,  was  officially  connected  with 
the  Church ;  but  if  the  General  Satyix  ascribed  to  him  in 
the  Maitland  MS.^  be  really  his,  he  must  be  ranked  among 
■•  Bannatyne  assigns  it  to  Dunbar. 


LINDSA  Y  AND  THE  IVEDDERBURNS.  3 

the  most  outspoken  of  the  critics  within  her  pale.  The  phrase 
in  which  Lindsay  refers  to  him,  "  Culross  hes  his  pen  maid 
impotent,"^  reminds  us  of  one  of  the  most  effective  weapons 
of  defence  in  her  armoury.  A  discontented  priest  was 
always  apt  to  see  things  in  a  new  light  after  he  had  been 
promoted. 

But  while  habit,  reverence  for  the  past,  and  the  natural 
ambition  for  preferment,  all  fought  in  favour  of  the  main- 
tenance of  things  as  they  were,  the  almost  universal  criticism 
of  details  proved  the  need  of  change.  Time  was  with  the 
innovators.  In  the  course  of  a  generation  the  battle  was  won 
and  all  the  weight  of  learning  and  talent  changed  sides. 
No  one  at  first  foresaw  the  results  of  the  conflict ;  not 
Knox  himself  when  he  entered  the  field,  still  less  the 
literary  assailants  of  the  Church.  But  there  were  literary 
forerunners  of  the  Reformation  whose  attitude  was  as  definite 
as  that  of  Patrick  Hamilton  ;  and  of  these  the  leaders 
in  different  spheres  were  Sir  David  Lindsay  and  George 
Buchanan.  They  wrote,  not  as  trained  and  professional 
theologians,  but  as  men  of  letters  awake  to  the  abuses 
of  the  time  ;  and  their  favourite  weapon  was  satire. 
Buchanan  probably  knew  better  than  Lindsay  what  might 
be  expected  of  the  new  movement ;  for  during  his  residence 
abroad  he  had  seen  the  effects  of  the  Lutheran  opinions, 
with  which  his  countryman  could  hardly  be  acquainted 
except  by  report ;  but  Lindsay  is  at  once  prior  in  time 
and  more  important  in  his  practical  bearing  on  the  Refor- 
mation. 

Lindsay  came  before  the  world  as  a  poet  almost  in 
the  very  year  of  Patrick   Hamilton's  death;  and  as  Knox 

•"■  Complaynt  of  the  Papyngo — Prolog. 


4  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURK. 

dates  the  beginning  of  a  new  era  in  religion  from  Hamilton, 
so  we  may  date  the  opening  of  a  new  epoch  in  Scottish 
literature  from  Lindsay.  He  is  usually  mentioned  along 
with  Dunbar  and  Douglas,  but  he  had  no  intimate  con- 
nection with  them  except  that  of  time.  His  lot  was  thrown 
in  with  the  Reformation  almost  as  decidedly  as  that  of 
Knox;  and  he  has  reaped  the  reward  of  clearness  of  vision, 
honesty,  and  courage,  in  a  popularity  such  as  has  fallen  to  the 
lot  of  none  of  his  predecessors.  Dunbar's  name  soon  sank 
into  obscurity,  from  which  it  was  not  rescued  till  the  time 
of  Allan  Ramsay ;  but  the  name  of  Lindsay  has  never  been 
forgotten  by  the  peasantry  of  Scotland,  and  his  works  were 
for  generations  familiar  to  them.  This  fact  alone  goes  far 
to  prove  how  wide-reaching  the  influence  of  the  Reforma- 
tion was.  Nothing  lives  through  it  unless  it  is  connected 
with  the  story  of  the  struggle  for  religious  freedom,  or, 
like  Barbour's  work,  with  the  earlier  but  equally  absorbing 
story  of  the  War  of  Independence.  The  preference  of  the 
people  for  Lindsay  is  not  due  to  critical  blindness,  but 
rather  to  the  fact  that  he  handles  the  theme  of  all  others 
dearest  to  their  heart :  his  brethren  belong  to  a  buried  past, 
he  is  of  the  present. 

The  early  history  of  Lindsay,  like  that  of  most  of  his 
brother  poets,  is  obscure.  Both  the  date  and  place  of  his 
birth  are  uncertain.  He  was  descended  from  the  noble  house 
of  Lindsay  of  Byres  and  owned  two  estates,  Garmylton 
in  East  Lothian  and  the  Mount  in  Fife  ;  but  though  his 
name  is  always  associated  with  the  latter,  and  though 
tradition  connects  it  with  his  birth,  there  is  no  clear 
evidence  on  the  point.  It  is  conjectured  that  he  was 
born   about  the  year  1490,  and  he  seems   to   have   been 


LINDSA  Y  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.  5 

educated  at  St.  Andrews ;  but  nothing  definite  is  known 
regarding  his  life  until  he  is  found  in  an  office  about  the 
court  in  the  year  15 ii.  On  the  birth  of  the  young 
prince,  afterwards  James  V.,  in  15 12,  he  became  specially 
attached  to  his  service.  He  appears  occasionally  in 
attendance  on  the  king  \  and,  in  particular,  he  was  one  of 
the  witnesses  of  the  famous  apparition  at  Linlithgow  which 
warned  James  to  abandon  his  expedition  against  England. 
The  story  rests  partly  on  the  credit  of  Lindsay  :  Pitscottie 
in  narrating  it  refers  to  him  as  a  witness,  though  he  does 
not  allege  his  direct  testimony;  while  Buchanan  expressly 
asserts  that  he  would  have  passed  it  over  as  a  vulgar  fable 
if  he  had  not  been  assured  of  its  truth  by  Lindsay, — "homo 
spectatae  fidei  et  probitatis,  nee  a  literarum  studiis  alienus, 
et  cujus  totae  vitae  tenor  longissime  a  mentiendo  aberat."^ 
There  is  no  reason  to  discredit  either  Lindsay's  truth- 
fulness or  the  fact  of  the  apparition ;  what  is  doubtful  is 
its  supernatural  character. 

Lindsay's  occupations  at  court,  as  described  by  him- 
self in  The  Dreme  and  The  Complnynt,  were  not  very 
elevated.  At  the  beginning  he  was  not  even  the 
king's  tutor  ;  that  office  was  held  by  Gawin  Dunbar, 
afterwards  Archbishoj)  of  Glasgow  and  Lord  Chancellor 
of  Scotland.  Lindsay  meantime  played  the  part  of  a  kind 
of  dry-nurse,  charged  with  the  task  of  keeping  his  master 
amused  and  attending  to  his  childish  wants.  The  offices 
he  filled,  as  enumerated  by  himself  in  the  Epistil  to  the 
Kingis  Grace  prefixed  to  The  Dreme,  were  those  of  sewer, 
cupbearer,  carver,  usher,  "  secreit  thesaurare,"  and  "cheiffe 
cubiculare."  He  performed  most  of  the  services  of  a  maid  : 
^  Renim  Scot.  Hist.  xiii.  31. 


6  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

"  Quhen  thow  wes  young,  I  bure  thee  in  niyne  arme 
Full  tenderlle,  tyll  thow  begouth  to  gang ; 

And  in  thy  bed  oft  happit  thee  full  warme, 

With  lute  in  hand,  syne,   svveitlie  to  thee  sang: 
Sumtyme,  in  dansing,  feiralie  I  flang ; 

And  sumtyme,  playand  farsis  on  the  flure ; 

And  sumtyme,  on  myne  office  takkand  cure. 

"And  sumtyme,  lyke  ane  feind,  transfigurate, 
And  sumtyme,  like  the  greislie  gaist  of  Gye ; 
In  divers  forms  oft  tymes  disfigurate, 
And  sumtyme,  dissagyist  full  plesandlye. 
So,  sen  thy  birth  I  have  continewalye 
Bene  occupyit,  and  aye  to  thy  plesoure, 
And  sumtyme,  Sevvare,  Coppare,  and  Carvoure." 

These  functions  are  to  modern  taste  sufficiently  incongruous 
with  the  position  of  Lindsay  by  birth  and  education ;  but 
menial  services  to  royalty  long  stood  in  fact,  and  still  stand 
in  the  language  of  court  etiquette,  on  a  special  footing.  It 
is  interesting  to  notice  that  the  future  poet  was  the  prince's 
minstrel,  and  the  future  dramatist  was  in  a  humble  way 
court  actor.  His  name  first  figures  in  the  Treasurer's 
accounts  for  materials  "  to  be  a  play  coat  to  David  Lyndsay 
for  the  play,  playit  in  the  king  and  quenis  presence  in 
the  Abbey  of  Holyrood."  ^  As  James  passed  from  infancy 
into  boyhood  the  character  of  Lindsay's  entertainment  had 
to  change.  Popular  legends,  the  prophecies  of  the  Rhymer, 
Bede,  and  Merlin,  the  histories  of  the  leading  mediaeval 
heroes,  and  the  stories  of  Chaucer  and  Lydgate,  furnished 
him  with  materials  for  the  narratives  which  took  the  place 
of  the  earlier  farcical  shows. 

About    1522    Lindsay    married    a    lady    named    Janet 
Douglas ;  but  this  event  does  not  appear  to  have  changed 

^  Quoted  in  Laing's  Memoir  of  Lindsay. 


LINDSA  V  AND  THE  VVEDDERBURNS.  7 

the  tenor  of  his  life.  Some  two  years  later  occurred  the 
revolution  known  as  the  "  Erection  "  of  King  James,  which 
entirely  changed  the  condition  and  prospects  both  internal 
and  external  of  Scotland.  The  Regent  Albany  had  been 
the  consistent  champion  of  French  influence  ;  but  the  now 
dominant  Douglases  were  of  the  English  faction.  Lindsay 
more  than  once  prays  that  Scotland  may  never  again  be 
afflicted  with  the  miseries  of  a  minority,  and  what  he 
saw  in  the  early  years  of  James  V.  gave  ample  ground 
for  his  dread.  The  boy-king  was  nothing  more  than  a 
piece  in  the  hands  of  unscrupulous  players;  and  foreign 
influences  intensified  the  evils  of  domestic  jealousies.  The 
party  installed  in  power  by  this  event  retained  their  seat 
for  four  years.  James,  nominally  supreme,  was  really  a 
prisoner  in  the  hands  of  Angus.  But  in  1528  the  king 
escaped  from  Falkland  to  Stirling,  a  counter-revolution 
was  effected,  and  the  Douglas  rule  was  at  an  end;  for 
James,  once  free  from  the  tutorship  of  Angus,  pursued 
him  and  all  his  house  with  relentless  hostility. 

The  Erection  drove  Lindsay  from  the  court  into  retire- 
ment ;  but  though  he  was  deposed  from  his  place,  he 
was  not  personally  ill-treated  at  this  crisis.  His  pension 
was  not  cut  off,  and  his  wife  continued  to  hold  a  sub- 
ordinate office  in  the  royal  household.  It  was  apparently 
in  this  enforced  leisure  that  Lindsay  began  to  write.  His 
earliest  known  poem  is  T/ie  Dre7ne,  which  must  have 
been  composed  soon  after  the  overthrow  of  Angus,  In 
it  Lindsay  struck  at  once  the  notes  which  characterised 
his  work  throughout ;  and  though  his  satire  deepened  in 
his  later  pieces,  he  never  afterwards  reached  a  higher 
poetic   level.      The   Dreme   was  evidently  composed  with 


8  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

the  double  object  of  bringing  before  James  the  evils  under 
which  his  country  was   suffering  and   reminding  him    that 
the  writer,  unlike   his  fellow-labourer  Gawin   Dunbar,  was 
still  unrewarded  for  his    services ;    for  the  pension  which 
he  drew  was  too  small  to  be  regarded  as  a  full  recom- 
pense.    But  the  latter  object  is  with  honourable  dignity 
kept   in   the    background.     In   the  prefatory  Epistil,  after 
reminding    the   king    of    his     youth    spent    in    the    royal 
service,    for   which,    he    says,    "  hope   hes    me   hecht    ane 
gudlie  recompense,"  he  passes  on  with  the  usual  apology 
for  the  absence  of  "  ornate  termis "  to  the  Prolog  to  the 
poem  proper.     This  prologue  is  one  of  the  few  passages 
in    Lindsay    that    can    be    fairly   reckoned    poetical.      He 
narrates  how  after  a  sleepless  night  he  walked  out  on  a 
January  morning  to  the  shore.     The  winter  landscape  is 
painted   with    much    feeling — the    branches   bared   by   the 
blast,   the   snow   and   sleet   "perturbing"  all   the   air,  the 
flowers   "  under  dame   Naturis  mantyll   lurking   law,"  and 
the   birds   mourning   the  absence   of  summer.     The   poet 
reaches    the    sea,    and   after   pacing    for   a   while   up   and 
down  on  the  sand,  he  takes  refuge  in  a  little  cave  in  a 
cliff,   where,  musing  on  the  resemblance  between  the  un- 
stable world   and    the   restless   waves,   he   is   thrown    into 
the  conventional  sleep  and  sees  the  conventional  vision. 
The  machinery  of  the  poem  is  thus  anything  but  original. 
The    vision   is   a   device   worn    threadbare    in    our    older 
poets,  and  in  Lindsay  there  is  the  additional  improbability 
of  incongruent   circumstances.       But  to  atone  for  this  he 
carries  us  away   from    the  hackneyed   May  morning  to  a 
fresh    scene,    and   suits  his    landscape   to  the   complexion 
of  his  thoughts  if  not  to  the  plan  of  his  poem. 


1 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.  9 

While  the  poet  sleeps,  a  lady  who  calls  herself  Dame 
Remembrance  appears  before  him,  and  sinks  down  with 
him  through  the  earth,  "into  the  lawest  Hell."  Here 
Lindsay's  preferences  begin  to  peep  out.  The  place 
of  torment  is  peopled  by  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men,  but  especially  by  Churchmen  of  every  descrip- 
tion, who  are  there  because  of  covetousness,  lust,  and 
ambition,  and  because  they  did  not  instruct  the  ignor- 
ant by  preaching.  But  above  all,  here  as  elsewhere, 
Lindsay  dwells  upon  temporal  wealth  as  the  great  source 
of  corruption  in  the  Church.  The  Emperor  Constantine 
is  the  fountain  and  spring  of  all  the  evil.  As  yet  how- 
ever, notwithstanding  his  clear  vision  of  abuses,  Lindsay 
has  no  fault  to  find  with  the  doctrines  of  the  Church. 
He  proclaims  his  belief  "that  the  trew  Kirk  can  no  way 
erre  at  all."  He  has  a  special  class  of  sufferers  for 
neglect  of  the  confessional.  He  seats  the  "Queue  of 
Quenis"  next  the  throne  of  God.  He  even  accepts, 
though  unwillingly,  the  doctrine  of  purgatory,  because  it 
rests  on  the  authority  of  "  gret  clerkis "  ;  but  the  stanza 
in  which  he  expresses  this  belief  concludes  significantly 
— "Quhowbeit  my  hope  standis  most  in  Cristis  blude." 
It  is  notable  that  this  doctrine  of  purgatory,  which 
Lindsay  bows  to  against  his  own  judgment,  was,  accord- 
ing to  Knox,  one  of  the  "trifles"  for  which  Patrick 
Hamilton  suffered ;  and  that  among  the  "  matters  of 
greater  importance"  dealt  with  in  Hamilton's  treatise  was 
that  of  the  atonement  just  hinted  at  by  Lindsay. 

Passing  from  this  pit  of  despair  the  poet  and  his 
guide  ascend  through  purgatory,  the  limbo  of  unbaptised 
babes,   and  that   of  pre-Christian    mankind.      These  they 


10  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

leave  behind  with  a  speed  which  marks  Lindsay's  dislike 
of  the  doctrines,  and  rise  through  the  nine  spheres  of 
the  old  astronomers  to  heaven  itself.  But  this  starry 
flight  is  somewhat  purposeless.  Without  learning,  or  at 
least  without  revealing,  anything  very  striking,  they  descend 
again  to  a  point  from  which  the  whole  earth  is  visible 
at  once.  After  a  rapid  description  of  the  world  in 
accordance  with  mediaeval  cosmography  the  poet  fixes 
his  gaze  upon  Scotland ;  and  here  we  come  upon  the 
kernel  and  discover  the  purpose  of  the  poem.  It  is  a 
political  essay  meant  for  the  instruction  and  guidance  of 
James.  The  poet  from  his  height  views  the  realm  of 
Scotland  with  her  "  fructuall "  mountains,  lusty  vales, 
rich  rivers,  her  abundant  game  and  store  of  metals, 
her  people  fair,  able,  strong  to  endure  great  deeds — 
everything  that  ought  to  create  wealth,  and  yet  all  pro- 
ducing only  poverty.  Dame  Remembrance  assures  him 
that  the  cause  of  all  the  unhappiness  is  "  wanting  of 
justice,  polycie,  and  peace,"  and  that  they  who  are  to 
blame  for  this  want  are  the  nobles.  This  conclusion  is 
driven  home  by  the  appearance  of  John  the  Commoun- 
weill,  a  character  very  familiar  to  the  readers  of  Lind- 
say : — 

"And  thus  as  we  were  talking,  to  and  fro, 

We  saw  a  bousteous  berne  cum  ouir  the  bent, 
Bot  hors,  on  futc,  als  fast  as  he  mycht  go, 

Quhose  rayment  wes  all  raggit,   revin,  and  rent ; 
With  visage  leyne,   as  he  had  fastit  Lent : 
And  fordwart  fast,  his  wayis  he  did  advance, 
With  ane  rycht  melancolious  countynance."  ^ 

'  Cf.   the  picture  in   The  Complaynt  of  Scotland  of  the  third  son  of 
Dame  Scotia. 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.  II 

He  is  leaving  the  country,  "  for  Policye  is  fled  again  in 
France,"  and  Justice  is  almost  blind.  In  the  Border  there 
is  nothing  but  theft  and  murder;  in  the  Highlands  and 
Islands,  thriftlessness,  poverty,  and  disorder;  while  greed 
and  self-seeking  have  made  the  Lowlands  as  bad.  There  is 
no  redress  to  be  had,  therefore  he  departs  to  return  no 
more  till  he  sees  the  country  guided  "be  wysedom  of  ane 
gude  auld  prudent  Kyng."  Here  the  vision  comes  to  an 
end.  A  ship  running  into  the  bay  fires  her  cannon  and 
lets  down  sails  and  anchor  with  crash  and  clatter,  and  the 
poet  awakes. 

Such  is  Lindsay  on  his  first  appearance  in  the  field  of 
letters,  and  such  he  remains  to  the  end.  There  is  more 
poetic  promise  than  is  quite  redeemed  in  later  years ;  but 
the  vigorous  sense  and  the  manly  courage  which  dares  to 
utter  the  truth  about  the  most  powerful,  qualities  which 
make  Lindsay  respectable  even  at  his  lowest,  grow  with 
time.  He  at  once  points  to  the  nobles  and  priests  as 
the  source  of  all  the  evils  under  which  Scotland  \vas 
suffering,  and  he  never  after  hesitates  or  falters.  There 
is  always  a  purpose  in  Lindsay's  verse,  and  that  purpose 
is  reform.  The  emphasis  falls  somewhat  differently  in  later 
days,  when  the  misdeeds  of  the  nobles  have  lost  the 
prominence  which  the  rise  and  fall  of  Angus  had  given  to 
them  at  this  moment,  when  it  has  become  more  evident 
that  the  priesthood  is  the  real  "plague  spot  and  embossed 
carbuncle  "  of  the  State,  and  when  the  hope  of  reform  from 
within  the  Church  has  faded  away.  But  however  the  parts 
they  play  may  vary  in  relative  importance,  the  characters 
upon  Lindsay's  stage  are  always  the  same.  No  man  ever 
held  to  his  purpose  more  faithfully  than  he. 


1 2  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

When  next  Lindsay  wrote,  self  had  a  larger  place  in 
his  thoughts.  Already  in  The  Drcme  his  youth  is  "neir 
ouer  blawin " ;  and  when  that  poem  passed,  like  his 
previous  services,  unrewarded,  he  seems  to  have  felt 
the  necessity  of  speaking  out.  He  does  so  in  The  Com- 
playnt  to  the  Kingis  Grace  with  bold  honesty.  It  is  a 
vigorous  piece  of  octosyllabic  verse,  recounting  again  the 
personal  services  mentioned  already  in  The  Dre?tie,  touch- 
ing upon  the  same  evils  in  the  State,  and  more  especially 
those  connected  with  religion,  but  entering  into  most 
detail  with  regard  to  the  Douglas  usurpation.  The  poet 
was  not  sparing  in  his  condemnation  of  it.  Without  stop- 
ping to  weigh  the  risk  of  offending  James,  who  was  still 
only  a  boy,  Lindsay,  in  some  of  the  most  rapid  and  for- 
cible lines  he  ever  wrote,  denounced  the  wickedness  of 
taking  a  mere  child  from  the  schools  to  put  in  his  hands 
the  government  of  the  country,  and  the  selfishness  of  the 
nobles  in  afterwards  playing  upon  his  passions  and  tempt- 
ing him  to  vice.  His  indignation  was  fired  at  once  by  love  of 
his  country,  and  by  personal  affection  for  the  prince  who 
had  grown  up  under  his  hands.  He  evidently  regarded 
James  as  a  boy  of  promise,  and  his  anger  was  all  the  hotter 
when  he  saw  that  promise  blasted  for  the  selfish  ends  of  the 
nobles.  This  sincerity  of  passion  lifts  The  Complaynt  above 
the  level  of  begging  poems.  Most  writers  who  have 
attempted  such  subjects  have  soiled  their  fingers  with  them; 
but  Lindsay  rises  in  personal  character,  if  not  in  reputation 
as  a  poet.  It  was  impossible  for  him  to  be  self-centred, 
and  there  is  in  every  line  evidence  of  the  truth  of  his  own 
assertion  that  he  was  still  without  preferment  only  because 
he  would  not  beg. 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.  1 3 

The  Complaynt  speedily  bore  fruit.  In  tlie  same  year 
in  which  it  was  given  to  the  pubUc  (apparently  1529), 
Lindsay  was  knighted  and  made  Lyon  King  of  Arms. 
The  appointment  was  one  which  changed  the  course  of  his 
life.  Hitherto  his  position  had  been  subordinate ;  now  he 
became  for  many  important  purposes  representative  of  the 
sovereign.  An  elaborate  Register  of  Arms  of  the  noble 
families  of  Scotland,  executed  under  his  direction  and 
guidance,  and  finished  in  1542,  exists  to  prove  that  he  was 
not  a  mere  holiday  herald ;  and  the  quality  of  the  work  is 
said  to  be  creditable  to  those  employed  upon  it.  But  besides 
performing  tasks  of  this  kind  at  home,  Lindsay,  as  chief 
herald,  was  called  upon  from  time  to  time  to  appear  at  foreign 
courts ;  and  perhaps  it  was  these  later  travels  that  gave 
rise  to  the  unsupported  story  of  his  youthful  wanderings. 
He  is  known  to  have  been  in  Flanders  in  1531,  engaged 
upon  the  business  of  renewing  a  commercial  treaty  with  the 
Netherlands;  and  once  more  in  1536  he  was  in  France  to 
help  in  arranging  a  marriage  for  James.  At  home  one  of 
his  functions  was  to  superintend  State  ceremonials ;  and 
perhaps  his  familiarity  with  scenic  effects  both  in  his  youth 
and  his  mature  years  had  something  to  do  in  determining 
the  character  of  his  most  important  work. 

During  those  years  Lindsay  was  far  from  idle  with  his 
pen.  The  first  of  his  writings  after  his  appointment  as  Lyon 
King  was  the  curious  piece  entitled  The  Testamettt  and 
Complay?it  of  the  Papyngo  (parrot).  It  is  furnished  as 
usual  with  an  apologetic  prologue,  in  which  the  poet 
complains  that  all  poetic  matter  has  been  exhausted  by  his 
predecessors — "the  poleit  termes  are  pullit  everilk  one." 
This  discloses  the  secret  of  the  great  vice  of  poetic  style 


1 4  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

in  that  age.  The  poet  must  find  or  invent  "  terms  rethory- 
call,"  "aureait,"  "poleit,"  and  in  straining  after  them  he 
floods  the  language  with  ill-considered  and  incongruous 
foreign  importations.  Lindsay  was  by  no  means  the  only 
or  the  chief  offender  in  this  way :  the  mediocrity  of  his 
poetic  power  and  the  backbone  of  substance  in  all  his 
works  combined  to  save  him  from  the  flaw  which  sometimes 
fatally  mars  the  verse  of  greater  writers ;  but  his  adoption 
of  this  style  whenever  his  theme  admitted,  shows  that  he 
was  as  deeply  imbued  as  any  with  the  false  taste  which  it 
indicates.  But  the  chief  interest  of  the  prologue  lies  in  the 
sketch  it  furnishes  of  the  state  of  poetry  in  Scotland  at  the 
time  and  shortly  before.  It  gives  a  long  list  of  the  names 
of  poets,  living  and  dead,  mentioning  among  the  latter  most 
of  those  whose  names  appear  in  Dunbar's  Lament  for  the 
Makaris.  The  majority  of  them  are  mere  shades  ;  their 
works  are  either  entirely  lost  or  exist  only  in  unimportant 
fragments ;  but  the  roll  at  least  affords  evidence  that  there 
was  at  that  time  a  great  deal  of  poetic  activity  about  the 
Scottish  court,  and  a  considerable  body,  if  not  a  high 
quality  of  work.  Further,  a  careful  examination,  with 
reference  to  existing  fragments,  of  the  terms  in  which 
Lindsay  refers  to  his  fellow  bards,  rouses  respect  for 
his  critical  faculty.  His  allusions  are  not  all  as  laudatory 
as  they  seem :  it  is  possible  to  detect  innuendo  and  sly  hints 
at  weaknesses  under  the  guise  of  praise.  A  few  years  after 
The  Complaynt  of  the  Papyngo  was  written,  another  name, 
that  of  King  James  himself,  would  certainly  have  been 
added  to  the  list.  In  an  interesting  little  piece,  written 
probably  about  1536,  Lindsay  addresses  him  as  "  Prince  of 
Poetry,"  "of  flowand  Rethorick  the  P1our,"  and  master  of 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.  I  5 

"ornate  meter."  This  is  in  answer  to  the  King's  Flytmg ; 
and  though  these  flattering  phrases  may  refer  only  to  this 
lost  Fiyting,  an  example  of  a  coarse  and  far  from  elevated 
species  of  composition  extremely  common  in  those  days, 
they  are  still  notable  as  proving  that  however  the  claims  of 
James  V.  to  Chrisfs  Kirk  on  the  Green  and  The  Gaberlunzie 
Man  may  be  settled,  he,  like  so  many  others  of  his  house, 
showed  a  taste  for  letters. 

In  The  Coinplaynt  of  the  Popyngo  Lindsay  puts  into  the 
mouth  of  the  king's  parrot  those  criticisms  of  Church 
and  State  which  he  had  already  expressed  less  fully  in 
his  own  name.  The  satire  derives  some  piquancy  from 
the  plan  of  the  poem,  a  plan  which  Lindsay  simply 
adopts  from  his  predecessors.  It  is  a  plan  condemned 
by  critics ;  but  criticism  has  not  killed  The  Hind  and  the 
Panther ;  and  incongruities  which  can  be  overlooked  in 
Dryden  are  still  more  pardonable  in  a  writer  of  the 
sixteenth  century. 

Lindsay's  parrot,  though  "  rycht  fat  and  nocht  weill 
usit  to  flee,"  attempts  to  climb  a  tall  tree,  but  falls  and  is 
impaled  upon  a  stake.  In  that  condition  she  addresses 
two  epistles,  one  to  the  king,  the  other  to  her  brethren 
at  court.  The  former  contains  much  good  advice  strongly 
though  respectfully  put.  Plain  speaking  to  the  Crown 
was  not  as  rare  in  Scotland  as  it  was  in  England,  where 
from  an  early  period  the  powers  of  the  sovereign  were 
greater.  Still,  neither  in  Scotland  nor  anywhere  else  have 
there  been  many  who,  filling  a  position  like  Lindsay's, 
have  spoken  as  openly  as  he  did.  Those  who  have  least 
disguised  their  opinions  have  generally  been  either  men 
somewhat   removed   from  court,   or  men   supported  there 


1 6  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

by  a  power  which  had  to  be  respected.  Lindsay,  on  the 
other  hand,  had  no  power  except  such  as  the  king  chose 
to  give  him  ;  and  all  his  hopes  were  centred  in  royalty. 
In  such  circumstances  his  fearless  honesty  in  addressing 
a  young,  self-willed,  half-spoilt  king  was  alike  honourable 
to  him  and  to  James.  Personal  affection  on  both  sides 
probably  goes  far  to  explain  it.  Nor  does  the  long  delay  in 
promotion  prove  any  want  of  regard  on  the  part  of  the 
king ;  for  promotion  came  almost  as  soon  as  James  was 
his  own  master. 

The  second  epistle,  still  more  than  the  first,  is  eloquent 
of  the  danger  which  threatens  the  poet  who  is  too  much 
engrossed  with  a  purpose  other  than  artistic.  This  epistle 
points  the  moral,  so  often  handled  in  the  Middle  Ages,  of 
the  Falls  of  Princes ;  and  to  do  so  reviews  in  most  prosaic 
style  the  history  of  Scotland.  One  of  the  besetting  sins 
of  Lindsay  was  that  he  had  little  artistic  sense,  and  hardly 
any  notion  of  the  necessity  of  selection.  Quicqiiid  agimt 
hommes  has  been  at  all  times  the  subject  of  satirists ; 
but  few  have  attempted  as  persistently  as  he  to  mix 
the  whole  of  their  material  in  the  farrago  of  a  single  piece. 
Both  epistles  however  must  be  regarded  as  merely  pre- 
liminary. The  poet  has  relieved  his  soul  for  the  time 
of  one  of  its  constant  burdens,  the  sense  of  evils  actual  or 
threatening  in  the  State;  and  he  now  turns  to  that  which 
is  at  present  and  for  ever  nearest  his  heart,  the  condition  of 
the  Church.  In  his  own  Complaynt  he  had  congratulated 
the  king  that  there  was  nothing 

"  Withoute  p;ude  ordour  in  this  land, 
Except  the  Spiritualitie." 

With  reason,  therefore,    he   might  now  have  passed  over 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.  17 

temporal    affairs ;    and   not   without   cause    is    he   dull   in 
the  treatment  of  them. 

When,  in  the  last  and  longest  section  of  The  Complaytit  of 
the  Papyngo,  Lindsay  turns  to  the  consideration  of  matters 
spiritual,  the  interest  deepens  and  the  style  entirely  changes. 
We  rise  above  the  atmosphere  of  respectable  common- 
place to  a  region  in  which  abundance  of  matter  and 
warm  present  interest  give  a  glow  and  fire  to  each 
phrase.  In  the  earlier  parts  of  this  Complaynt  the  poet 
simply  utters  his  own  sentiments  through  an  uncouth 
medium.  Now  the  resources  of  the  plan  are  developed 
with  considerable  ingenuity.  Seeing  the  Papyngo  in  pain 
the  Pye,  the  Raven,  and  the  Gled  (Kite)  come  near  to 
shrive  her.     The  Pye  proclaims  himself 

"One  Channoun  regulare, 

And  of  my  brether  Piyour  principall  : 
My  quhyte  rocket,  my  clene  lyfe  doith  declare  ; 

The  blak  bene  of  the  deith  memoriall : 

Quharefore,   I  thynk  your  gudis  naturall 
Sulde  be  submyttit  hole  into  my  cure  ; 
Ye  knaw  I  am  ane  holye  creature." 

But  the  Papyngo  is  not  easy  in  mind — 

'  *  Father,  be  the  rude, 
Howbeit  your  rayment  be  religious  lyke, 
Your  conscience,  I  suspect,  be  nocht  gude ; 
I  did  persave,  quhen  prevelye  ye  did  pyke 
Ane  chekin  from  ane  hen,  under  ane  dyke. 
I  grant,  said  he,  that  hen  wes  my  gude  freind, 
And  I  that  chekin  tuke,  hot  for  my  teind." 

The  Papyngo  remaining  unconvinced  expounds  to  the 
Pye  and  his  brethren  the  Raven  (a  black  monk),  and 
the  Gled  (a  holy  friar),  the  cause  of  her  suspicions  and 
the    origin    of    corruption    in    the    Church.       Again    the 


1 8  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

satirist  reverts  to  Constantine.  Corruption  begins  when 
the  Church  espouses  Property  and  so  begets  Riches 
and  Sensuality.  These  banish  Chastity  and  Devotion. 
The  former  is  traced  in  her  exile  through  Italy,  France, 
and  England,  everywhere  rejected  and  cast  out.  Her 
fate  is  no  better  in  Scotland.  She  is  ousted  by  one  re- 
ligious order  after  another  until  she  finds  refuge  upon 
the  Borough  Muir.  It  is  pleasant  to  notice  that  the 
satirist  of  abuses  has  still  a  word  of  praise  for  pure  life 
and  unfeigned  devotion — 

"  Quhare  bene  scho  now,  than  said  the  gredy  Gled  ? 
Nocht  amang  yow,   said  scho,    I  yow  assure  : 
I  traist  scho  bene  upon  the  Borrow-mure, 
Besouth  Edinburgh,  and  that  rycht  mony  menis, 
Profest  amang  the  Systeris  of  the  Schenis." 

At  last  the  Papyngo  lies  at  the  brink  of  death.  She 
shrives  herself  to  the  Gled,  and  bequeaths  her  various 
possessions  to  those  who  seem  to  need  them  most ; 
but  she  is  no  sooner  dead  than  her  executors,  disregard- 
ing her  bequests,  fall  to  quarrelling  over  her  remains, 
until  in  the  end  the  Gled  flies  away  with  what  is  left — 

"The  lave,   with  all  tliair  niycht. 
To  chace  the  Gled,  flew  all  out  of  my  sycht." 

So  far  as  the  chronology  of  Lindsay's  poems  can  be 
fixed,  there  is  a  gap  of  several  years  between  TJie  Com- 
playnt  of  the  Papyngo  and  the  piece  which  follows  next. 
As  there  is  no  known  reason  why  he  should  have  ceased 
to  write,  the  existence  of  the  gap  may  fairly  be  advanced 
as  a  ground  for  suspecting  that  he  was  already  engaged 
upon  The  Satyre  of  the  Thrie  Estaitis ;  but  setting  aside 
for   the  present  the  disputed  question  of  the  date  of  this 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.  19 

work,  it  appears  that  for  the  next  eight  or  nine  years 
Lindsay  is  represented  only  by  a  few  fugitive  pieces.  In 
one  of  these,  Kitieis  Confesstoun,  his  favourite  note  of 
satire  against  the  Church  is  repeated,  with  special  reference 
to  auricular  confession.  In  another,  the  Si/ppltcatioun  in 
Contewptioun  of  Syde  Taillis,  the  invective  is  directed 
against  female  luxury  in  dress,  a  subject  as  old  as  the 
lament  for  the  decline  of  manly  strength.  There  are 
besides  one  or  two  pieces  connected  with  public  events. 
From  his  reputation  as  a  poet,  his  familiarity  with  all 
that  related  to  the  king,  and  the  general  nature  of  his 
duties  as  a  herald,  Lindsay  might  naturally  be  expected 
to  perform  some  of  those  functions  which  fall  to  a  Poet 
Laureate.  One  specimen  of  such  handiwork  exists  in 
the  Deploratioun  of  the  Deith  of  Quene  Magdalene.  The 
Justing  betiiix  James  Watsoiai  and  Jhone  Barbour.,  widely 
different  as  it  is,  may  perhaps  be  regarded  as  another. 
It  celebrates  a  mock  tournament  which  formed  part  of 
the  rejoicings  over  the  arrival  of  the  successor  to  Queen 
Magdalen. 

Those  years,  so  unproductive  of  poetic  fruit,  were  also 
historically  uneventful.  There  were  the  usual  troubles 
with  England,  settled  for  the  time  by  the  peace  of  1534; 
and  the  usual  negotiations  with  France  culminating  in 
the  two  successive  French  marriages,  the  latter  of  which 
was  destined  to  bring  in  its  train  momentous  con- 
sequences. The  movement  against  the  priesthood  and 
the  religious  orders  was  meanwhile  going  on  under  the 
surface.  Some  of  its  effects  show  themselves  in  the  per- 
secutions of  1539,  when  five  heretics  were  burnt  and  a 
number,  among   whom    was    Buchanan,  driven    into  exile. 


20  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

These  persecutions  however  mark,  not  the  steady  policy 
of  James,  but  a  mysterious  change  which  passed  over  it. 
Just  before  the  persecution  he  had  been  roused  to  indig- 
nation against  the  Franciscan  friars  because  he  beUeved 
them  to  be  impHcated  in  certain  obscure  cases  of  treason 
which  had  lately  occurred.^  But  the  Church  authorities 
had  found  means  to  change  the  king's  policy  ;  his  instru- 
ments were  given  up  to  their  vengeance,  and  the  true 
faith  was  saved  for  the  time  from  the  assaults  of  its 
critics. 

It  is  remarkable  that  Lindsay,  the  unsparing  satirist  of 
the  Church,  escaped  persecution,  not  on  this  occasion 
only  but  in  after  years  as  well ;  and  the  cause  of  his  life- 
long immunity  has  been  the  subject  of  much  debate.  It 
has  been  suggested  that  the  explanation  is  to  be  found 
in  the  king's  friendship  for  him  ;  or,  again,  that  Lindsay's 
character  as  a  patriotic  Scot  protected  him.  Neither  ex- 
planation is  sufficient ;  not  the  former,  because  the  phe- 
nomenon to  be  accounted  for  continued  long  after  the 
death  of  the  king.  Lindsay  lived  through  the  ascendency 
of  Cardinal  Beaton  and  under  the  shadow  of  Mary  of 
Guise  as  unscathed  as  he  had  lived  beneath  the  shield 
of  James.  Still  less  is  the  second  explanation  satisfac- 
tory. Religious  zeal  has  seldom  "stood  on  ceremonies" 
in  dealing  with  opponents,  and  insular  patriotism  was 
the  last  quality  in  the  world  to  stay  the  hand  of  the 
cosmoi)olitan  dignitaries  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  Pos- 
sibly the  influence  of  England  helped  to  protect  Lindsay 
after  the  death  of  James.  The  party  of  reform  was  com- 
pelled by  the  force  of  circumstances  to  look  to  Henry 
^  Buchanan,  Dedication  of  Franciscanus. 


LINDSA  Y  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         2  I 

VIII.  for  support;  and  their  imperious  patron  was  little 
likely  to  suffer  a  protege  to  be  harmed.  This  conjecture 
at  least  agrees  with  the  known  facts.  Lindsay's  position 
brought  him  into  intimate  connection  with  the  English 
representatives  at  court,  so  that  he  was  not  beyond  the 
reach  of  their  arm  ;  and  The  Tragedie  of  the  Cardinall 
proves  that,  whether  on  private  or  public  grounds  or  a 
combination  of  both,  Lindsay  within  a  few  years  after 
the  death  of  James  was  entirely  English  in  his  sym- 
pathies ;  and  this  in  face  of  the  fact  that  the  lofty  pre- 
tensions of  Henry  towards  the  close  of  James's  reign  did 
much  to  alienate  the  Scotch.  Lindsay's  life  did  not  ex- 
tend far  enough  into  the  reign  of  the  English  Mary  to 
show  what  effect  that  change  might  have  produced. 

Just  after  this  persecution  of  1539  Lindsay  is  believed 
to  have  produced  the  most  curious  and  on  the  whole  the 
greatest  of  his  works,  the  morality  entitled  The  Satyre  oj 
the  Thrie  Estaitis.  Little  need  be  said  by  way  of  intro- 
duction to  it.  The  historian  of  Elizabethan  literature 
must  inquire  into  the  origin  of  the  P^nglish  drama ;  and 
facts  in  themselves  trivial  acquire  importance  from  their 
relation  to  the  works  of  Marlowe  and  Shakespeare  and 
Jonson ;  but  in  Scotland  the  drama  never  had  a  history. 
Lindsay's  Satyre  contains  the  promise  of  better  things  to 
come,  but  the  promise  was  never  redeemed  :  and  in  con- 
sequence such  minute  facts  as  are  known  with  regard  to 
early  dramatic  exhibitions  remain  minute  and  unimportant. 
Before  Lindsay  the  Scottish  drama  was  very  rudimentary, 
and  it  remained  undeveloped  after  his  day.  By  a  singular 
irony  of  fate  this  was  caused  by  the  triumph  of  the  very 
movement  in  support  of  which  chiefly  The  Satyre  of  the 


22  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

Thrie  Estaitis  was  written.  The  Reformation  stamped 
out  the  spark  of  dramatic  activity  in  Scotland,  as  it  would 
have  done  in  England  had  the  Puritan  party  risen  to  power 
half  a  century  earlier  than  it  did.  Had  there  ever  been  an 
English  Knox,  would  there  have  been  a  Shakespeare  ?  A 
comparison  of  the  literary  history  of  the  two  countries  points 
to  a  negative  answer. 

So  far  as  there  were  precedents  in  Scotland  for  dramatic 
composition,  they  were  of  the  same  class  as  we  find  in 
England,  and  they  followed  the  same  line  of  development. 
Courtly  pageants  were  a  favourite  amusement  of  James  IV. ; 
and  Lindsay  himself  was  employed  not  only,  as  has  been 
already  pointed  out,  in  the  humble  task  of  devising  scenes 
to  amuse  the  infant  prince,  but  in  the  more  ambitious 
exhibitions  before  the  courtiers.  The  same  taste  for  scenic 
effects  continued  through  the  reign  of  James  V. ;  and  Lindsay 
was  again  employed  to  superintend  the  spectacles  for  the 
welcome  of  Mary  of  Guise.  In  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary 
such  shows  incurred  the  hostility  of  the  ministers ;  but  they 
were  not  given  up  without  a  sharp  struggle.  The  unruly 
mob  of  Edinburgh  loved  the  Abbot  of  Unreason  and  Robin 
Hood  more  than  they  feared  the  pains  of  hell;  and  some 
time  passed  before  such  revels  ceased. 

There  were  other  shows  of  a  more  regular  description.  In 
1440  a  play  called  The  Halie  Blade  was  acted  at  Aberdeen ; 
and  the  fragment  called  The  Droichis  Part  of  the  Play., 
which,  occurring  in  the  Asloane  MS.,  must  be  at  least 
as  old  as  the  reign  of  James  IV.,  proves  the  existence  of 
other  dramatic  pieces.  Lindsay's  own  time  produced  several 
dramatic  compositions.  His  Satyre  alone  has  survived  ;  but 
it  is  significant  that  the  other  plays  of  which  any  notice 


LINDSA  Y  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         23 

remains  dealt  with  the  same  subject.  One  of  the  victims  of 
the  persecution  of  1539  was  a  man  named  Kyllor,  a  Domin- 
ican friar,  whose  offence  was  that  he  had  written  a  mystery 
on  the  Passion  in  which  he  denounced  the  vices  of  the 
clergy.  His  boldness  cost  him  his  life.  James  Wedderburn 
of  Dundee  took  the  same  means  of  proclaiming  his  views, 
and  was  obliged  to  seek  refuge  in  France.  His  plays  were  a 
tragedy  on  the  beheading  of  John  the  Baptist,  and  a  comedy 
on  the  story  of  Dionysius  the  Tyrant,  in  both  of  which, 
according  to  Calderwood,^  he  "  carped  roughlie "  and 
"nipped"  the  Papists.  He  further  offended  by  "counter- 
footing  the  conjuring  of  a  ghaist." 

It  has  been  already  hinted  that  there  is  difficulty  as  to 
the  date  of  The  Satyre  of  the  Three  Estaitis.  Some  place 
it  in  1535,  others  in  1540.  Chalmers  somewhat  dog- 
matically asserts,  on  the  authority  of  internal  evidence, 
that  it  was  finished  in  1535  and  first  acted  on  the  playfield 
at  Cupar  in  Fife  in  that  year.  Laing,  taking  the  safer 
course  of  confining  himself  to  ascertained  facts,  pronounces, 
perhaps  also  a  little  too  confidently,  that  "  it  was  first 
exhibited  at  Linlithgow  at  the  feast  of  Epiphany  on  6th 
January  i5f|}."  This  is  undeniably  the  earliest  exhibition 
which  can  be  established  by  positive  evidence.  But  if  it 
is  ever  justifiable  to  draw  an  inference  from  the  spirit  and 
general  method  of  an  author,  we  may  conclude  as  Chalmers 
does  that  the  central  figure  of  the  Satyre  is  no  other  than 
James  V.  Certainly  it  could  be  no  other  real  person,  and 
almost  as  certainly  it  was  no  mere  figment  of  the  poet's 
brain.  The  subject  of  the  Satyre  is  the  condition  of 
Scotland,  which  had  been  for  over  twenty  years  dependent 

1  Caklerwood,  i.  142  (Wodrow  Ed.). 


24  SCO  TTISH  LI TERA  TURK. 

upon   James   and    his    fate.      And    the    picture    of    Rex 

Humanitas — young,  inexperienced,  praying  for  guidance  in 

his  reign,  full  of  good  impulses  but  without  the  knowledge 

to  enable  him  to  choose  between  good  and  evil,  and  falling 

immediately  into  the  hands  of  Wantonness  and  Sensuality — 

must  have  been  to  Lindsay's  mind  an  exact  transcript  of 

James's  youth.     If  so,  the  Satyrc  must  have  been  written 

before  the  marriage  of  James   on   the    ist  January,  1537. 

The  force  of  the  argument  that  if  the  reference  had  been 

to  James  the  play  must  have  been  changed  in  subsequent 

representations  is  not  very  apparent.     A  poet  is  not  bound 

to  follow  the  changes  in  the  history  of  the  person  he  had 

in  his  mind  in  creating  a  character.     To  this  must  be  added 

the  argument   already  advanced  that,  dated  at   1535,   the 

Satyre  fills  satisfactorily  an  interval  in  the  poet's  life  otherwise 

seemingly  fruitless  ;   for  it  is  doubtful  whether  any  other 

piece  can  be  put  between  the  years  1530  and  1536. 

The  Satyre  of  the  Thrie  Estaitis  is  a  morality,  with  the 
usual  mixture  of  concrete  human  beings  and  allegorical 
impersonations  of  virtues  and  vices.  It  is,  like  all  such 
compositions,  long,  rambling,  and  loosely  constructed ;  but 
by  general  consent  Lindsay's  play,  for  its  vigour  and  point 
and  sound  sense,  takes  the  place  of  honour  in  its  class. 
It  is  less  abstract  and  has  more  human  interest  than 
moralities  generally  possess  :  there  is  interest  in  the  con- 
stant reference  to  the  pressing  topics  of  the  time ;  and 
there  is  a  wealth  of  unpolished  humour  which  only  wants 
compression  to  be  effective.  The  characters  who  appear 
upon  the  stage  are  of  very  various  merit.  Some  of  them  are 
lifeless  enough,  particularly  such  personages  as  Correctioun 
and  the  virtues  generally ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  tliere  is  a 


* 
« 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  VVEDDERBURNS.         25 

certain  class  of  the  allegorical  figures  which  in  a  humbler 
degree  have  the  same  merit  as  Bunyan's,  and  for  similar 
reasons.  Falset,  Dissait,  and  Flattrie  are  clothed  with  flesh 
and  blood  because  Lindsay  was  profoundly  conscious  of  the 
evils  against  which  he  directed  his  satire  :  they  are  actual 
existences  to  him  just  as  sin  and  Christian  grace  are  to 
Bunyan.  He  is  successful  in  the  critical  and  satirical  part : 
he  fails  in  the  suggestions  for  reconstruction,  because  he  did 
not  realise  the  way  to  cure  the  body  politic  as  vividly  as  he 
realised  the  diseases  under  which  it  was  suffering. 

The  body  of  the  Satyre  is  divided  into  two  parts  ;  but, 
so  far  as  its  structure  can  be  made  out  from  the  authorities 
upon  which  the  text  rests, ^  there  are  besides  two  inter- 
ludes connected  with  it,  one  introductory,  the  other  intended 
to  fill  the  gap  between  the  two  parts  and  to  amuse  the 
common  throng  in  the  interval  while  the  principal  auditors 
were  absent  from  their  places.  The  play  is  coarse,  the 
interludes  are  coarser ;  but  that  of  The  Puir  Man  and  the 
Pardoner  is  good  enough  to  demand  notice.  As  elsewhere 
in  his  works,  now  with  humour  sly  or  broad,  now  with  down- 
right denunciation,  Lindsay  delights  to  scorch  and  flay,  to 
crush  and  pulverise  "religious  men"  of  all  classes  con- 
nected with  the  Church  of  Rome;  so  he  utilises  the  pause 
between  the  two  parts  of  The  Satyre  to  emphasise  with 
scathing  sarcasm  his  conviction  that  all  evil  is  centred  in 
the    Church.      The    Pardoner,    Sir    Robert    Rome-Raker, 

^ These  are  two:  (i)  The  Bannatyne  MS.,  in  which  are  embodied 
a  series  of  interkides  taken  from  Lindsay's  satire  ;  but  the  grave 
matter  is  professedly  left  out.  (2)  The  printed  edition  of  1602,  which 
must  be  the  foundation  of  every  modern  text.  The  Bannatyne  M.S., 
however,  though  it  omits  much,  also  contains  matter  which  does  not 
appear  in  the  later  version. 


26  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

enters  crying  his  wares  and  consigning  to  the  powers  of 
evil  "this  unsell  wickit  New  Testament"  and  its  translators, 
Luther  and  his  crew,  St.  Paul  and  his  books.  He  has  a 
whole  pack  of  treasures  : — 

"  My  patent  Pardouns,  ye  ma  se, 
Cum  frae  the  Cane  of  Tartaric, 

Weill  seald  with  oster  schellis. 
Thocht  ye  have  na  contritioun, 
Ye  sail  have  full  remissioun, 

With  help  of  buiks  and  bellis. 
Heir  is  ane  relict,   lang  and  braid, 
Of  Fine  Maccoull  the  richt  chaft  biaid 

With  teith,  and  al  togidder : 
Of  CoUing's  cow,  heir  is  ane  home, 
For  eating  of  Makconnal's  corne, 

Was  slane  into  liakjuhidder. 
Heir  is  ane  coird,  baith  great  and  lang, 
Quhilk  hangit  Johne  the  Armistrang : 

Of  glide  hemp  soft,  and  sound  : 
Gude,  halie  peopill,  1  stand  for'd 
Quha  ever  beis  hangit  with  this  cord, 

Neids  never  to  be  dround. 
The  culum  of  Sanct  Brydis  kow, 
The  gruntill  of  Sanct  Antonis  sow, 

Quhilk  buir  his  haly  bell  ; 
Quha  ever  he  be  heiris  this  bell  clinck, 
CJif  me  ane  ducat  for  till  drink, 

He  sail  never  gang  to  hell, 
Without  he  be  of  Baliell  liorne : 
Maisters,  trow  ye,   that  this  be  scorne  ! 

Cum  win  this  Pardoun,  cum." 

In  the  first  part  of  The  Satyre  proper  the  note  is  struck 
in  the  character  of  Rex  Humanitas — a  king  of  noble 
aspirations  falling  at  the  threshold  of  his  career  under 
the  sway  of  evil  counsellors  and  plastic  as  wax  in  their 
hands.      Dissait   and    his   fellows,    with    the   ready   aid    of 


LINDSA  V  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         2/ 

the  Estate  Spiritual,  put  Chastitie  and  Veritie  in  the 
stocks  and  Vice  reigns  triumphant.  Then  enters  the 
deus  ex  mac/n?ia,  Divyne  Correctioun.  The  Virtues  are 
set  free,  the  Vices  put  to  flight ;  SensuaHtie  finds  refuge 
and  welcome  with  her  friends  the  spiritual  lords ;  the 
King  is  roused  from  his  dreams  of  luxury  and  license ; 
and  the  way  is  thus  prepared  for  part  second.  It  is 
remarkable  that  even  at  this  early  date  Lindsay  seems 
to  have  felt  it  necessary  to  guard  against  the  excess  of 
reforming  zeal.  He  is  the  enemy  of  vice,  not  of 
innocent  pleasure;  and  he  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Solace 
a  request  readily  granted  by  Divyne  Correctioun,  to 

"Give  us  leave  to  sing, 
To  dance,  to  play  at  chesse,   and  tabills, 
To  reid  stories,  and  mirrie  fabils, 
For  pleasure  of  our  King." 

This  first  part  is  preliminary.  It  shows  reform  begun 
in  high  places ;  but  the  Three  Estates  are  still  to  be 
reduced  to  order.  In  the  second  part,  summoned  by 
Diligence,  they  come  upon  the  stage  backwards,  led  by 
their  Vices;  the  Spiritual  Estate  by  Covitice  and  Sensualitie, 
the  temporal  lords  by  Publick  Oppressioun,  the  Commons 
by  Falset  and  Dissait.  When  they  are  challenged  for 
their  singular  demeanour,  Spiritualitie  justifies  it  on  the 
plea  that  they  have  gone  so  for  many  a  year  and  are 
very  well  satisfied  to  go  so  still ;  and  when  the  Vices 
are  led  away  to  the  stocks,  those  of  Spiritualitie  take  a 
touchingly  tender  farewell  of  their  superior,  assuring  him 
that  though  they  must  depart  their  spirit  will  remain  with 
him.  This  over,  the  reform  of  abuses  proceeds.  The 
temporal   lords  and  the  commons,  accepting  the  changes 


2  8  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

demanded,  are  soon  disposed  of.  Very  different  is  the 
attitude  of  Spiritualitie.  "  Auld  use  and  wont"  covers 
every  corruption — 

"Wee  will  want  nathing  that  wee  have  in  use, 
Kirtit  nor  kow,    teind   lambe,    teind  gryse,   nor  guse." 

It  is  needless  to  go  over  the  ground  again.  The  subjects 
of  complaint  are  the  old  familiar  themes — the  lust,  the 
greed,  the  ignorance  of  the  religious  orders.  If  the 
satirist's  charges  of  ignorance  seem  overdrawn  they  should 
be  read  along  with  the  sober  assertion  of  Knox,  that 
some  of  the  friars  thought  the  New  Testament  a  book 
written  by  Martin  Luther.  The  Reformer  was  unques- 
tionably a  deeply  prejudiced  man,  but  he  was  truthful ; 
and  he  is  supported  on  this  point  by  Buchanan. 
Johne  the  Commoun-weill  suggests  with  reason  that 
if  King  David,  the  "  sair  sanct,"  were  living  he  would 
repent  of  his  liberality  to  the  Church.  The  play  ends 
with  the  passing  of  a  number  of  wholesome  acts  and  the 
punishment  of  the  wicked,  wherein  the  representatives  of 
the  Spiritual  Estate  suffer  so  severely  that  their  very 
vices  will  acknowledge  them  no  more. 

For  some  years  Lindsay  must  have  been  much  engaged 
upon  the  great  Register  of  Arms.  Towards  the  close  of 
1542,  the  year  in  which  it  was  completed,  events 
occurred  which  might  well  have  turned  the  Lyon  King's 
mind  from  poetry.  The  life  of  James  V.  closed  in 
gloom  and  disaster.  His  successor  was  an  infant  a  few 
days  old ;  and  Lindsay  saw  that  his  declining  years 
must  be  passed,  as  his  early  manhood  had  been  passed, 
amidst  the  disorders  of  a  long  minority,  the  very  evil 
against  which    he   had  most   earnestly  prayed   and  which 


I 


LINDSA  Y  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         2g 

had  worked  more  ruin  in  Scotland  than  anything  else.  He 
saw  all  his  fears  realised — factions,  disputes,  and  stru^les 
for  power  internally ;  externally  intrigues  with  France  on 
the  one  hand  and  with  England  on  the  other ;  confusion 
ever  growing  worse  confounded.  The  death  of  James 
diminished  Lindsay's  influence.  He  was  estranged  from 
the  Court,  without  however  losing  his  office;  and  for 
two  years  there  is  no  trace  of  him  in  connexion  with  any 
important  events.  In  1544  he  was  abroad  as  chief  herald 
delivering  the  insignia  of  the  various  foreign  orders  with 
which  James  had  been  decorated.  After  his  return  he 
sat  in  parliament ;  but  the  first  events  which  find  ex- 
pression in  his  poetry  are  again  events  connected  with 
the  state  of  religion.  In  1543  began  those  acts  of 
religious  vandalism  which  have  made  the  name  of  the 
Reformers  odious  to  the  lovers  of  art.  In  Dundee 
especially  the  kirks  suffered.  This  movement,  which 
connects  itself  particularly  with  the  name  of  Wishart, 
lasted  until  the  party  of  reform  was  temporarily  crushed 
by  the  capture  of  the  castle  of  St.  Andrews  and  the 
imprisonment  in  the  galleys  of  the  ringleaders  in  the 
assassination  of  Cardinal  Beaton.  Lindsay  was  sym- 
pathetic, and  he  was  one  of  those  who  joined  in  calling 
Knox  to  the  office  of  a  preacher ;  but  he  was  not  of  the 
party  in  the  castle. 

He  made  use  of  Beaton  however  to  point  a  moral  in 
The  Tragedie  of  the  Cardiiiall.  It  is  excessively  dull. 
A  keen  search  would  be  needed  to  discover  a  single 
poetic  idea  or  a  single  powerful  line,  while  the  depths 
of  bathos  to  which  Lindsay  is  always  liable  to  sink  could 
not   be    better    illustrated    than    by   the    words    in   which 


30  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

he  makes  the  Cardinal  refer  to  the  disposal  of  his  own 
body : — 

"They  saltit  me,  syne  closit  me  in  ane  kyste. 
I   lay  unburyit  seven  monethis  and   more 
Or  I  was  borne  to  closter,  kirk,   or  queir. 
In  ane  niydding,  quhilk  paine  l)ene  tyll  deplore." 

Knox  tells  the  same  story  in  very  similar  words,  but 
with  a  grim  humour  and  satisfaction  which  give  it  quite 
a  different  point:  "Now  becaus  the  wether  was  hote 
(for  it  was  in  Maij,  as  ye  have  heard),  and  his  funerallis 
could  not  suddanly  be  prepared,  it  was  thowght  best,  to 
keap  him  from  styncking,  to  geve  him  great  salt  ynewcht, 
a  cope  of  lead,  and  a  nuk  in  the  boddome  of  the  Sea- 
toore  (a  place  where  many  of  Goddis  childrene  had  bene 
empreasoned  befoir),'  to  await  what  exequeis  his  brethrene 
the  bischoppes  wold  prepare  for  him."  ^ 

But  though  the  Tragedie  (the  word  is  used  in  the 
pre-Elizabethan  sense)  is  utterly  worthless  as  literature, 
it  is  interesting  as  revealing  Lindsay's  views  regarding 
one  of  the  most  startling  events  of  a  stirring  time.  It 
does  not  commit  him  to  absolute  approval  of  the  act 
of  the  assassins,  but  it  shows  his  sympathy  with  them. 
It  shows  also  his  strong  adhesion  to  the  P^nglish  policy. 
The  misfortunes  of  the  Cardinal  and  of  Scotland  are 
traced  largely  to  the  triumph  of  the  French  party.  The 
abandonment  of  the  proposals  for  an  English  marriage 
and  the  breach  of  the  "  band  of  peace "  are  the  causes 
of  all  the  wreck  and  ruin  of  the  time. 

With  the  affair  of  Cardinal  Beaton  the  public  life  of 
Lindsay   draws  near  a  close.      In    1548  he  was  in    Den- 

'  Works,  I.    178. 


LINDSA  Y  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         3 1 

mark  attempting  to  negotiate  a  treaty.  After  that  date 
his  name  appears  in  connexion  with  no  business  of 
importance ;  but  he  held  the  office  and  performed  the 
duties  of  Lyon  King  to  the  end.  Except  for  this  the 
last  years  of  his  life,  so  far  as  is  known,  were  devoted 
to  literature.  Hardly  any  details  of  those  years  have  sur- 
vived. The  time,  place,  and  manner  of  his  death  are 
unknown;  though  the  date  can  be  fixed  within  pretty 
narrow  limits.  He  was  alive  on  Jan.  i6,  1555,  and  dead 
before  April  18  of  that  year.^ 

To  the  declining  years  of  Lindsay's  life  belong  two 
of  his  longest  works.  The  Historie  and  Testament  of 
Squyer  Metdrum,  and  Ane  Dialog  betuix  Experience  and 
ane  Courteour,  commonly  known  as  The  Monarchic. 
Squyer  Meldruvi  is  a  tale  of  chivalrous  adventure  relat- 
ing the  exploits  of  a  personal  friend  of  the  poet.  Con- 
trary to  his  custom  Lindsay  seems  to  have  written  this 
tale  mainly  for  its  own  sake.  He  does  indeed  proclaim 
an  ethical  purpose  in  the  opening  lines  :  as  other  poets 
have  held  up  the  lives  of  ancient  heroes  to  be  mirrors 
of  virtue  and  courage,  so  will  he  recount  the  deeds  of 
his  contemporary.  But  there  is  no  burning  question  in 
his  mind,  no  immediate  reform  to  be  aimed  at.  We 
miss  therefore  that  which  forms  the  abiding  interest  of 
Lindsay's  work,  its  intimate  relation  to  the  history  and 
existing  circumstances  of  his  country.  The  absence  of 
this  kind  of  interest  would  make  most  of  the  author's 
work  unreadable ;  and  though  the  Historie  is  otherwise 
of  much  more  than  average  merit,  it  is  on  this  account 
less    attractive    than    many   a    ruder    page    in    his    other 

^  See   Laing's   Memoir. 


32  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

poems.  The  story  of  Squire  Meldrum  is  written,  as 
beseems  the  subject,  in  the  favourite  measure  of  the  old 
romances.  It  is  of  all  measures  perhaps  the  easiest  to 
write,  up  to  a  certain  degree  of  excellence;  and  as 
Lindsay's  very  moderate  powers  of  rliythm  are  not 
strained  the  octosyllabic  lines  flow  on  in  a  clear  and 
forcible  stream.  The  story  is  well  told :  there  is  less 
irrelevancy,  less  redundancy,  less  false  taste  than  we  usually 
find.  But  on  the  other  hand  no  high  level  is  anywhere 
reached.  It  is  like  Scott's  poetry,  with  all  the  variety  of 
versification,  with  the  colouring,  the  grace  of  sentiment, 
and  even  with  part  of  the  vigour  (though  Lindsay  is  vigo- 
rous) left  out.  If,  therefore,  we  accept  the  view  that  The 
Historie  of  Sqiiyer  Meldriivi  is  his  greatest  work,  the 
niche  of  the  Lyon  King  in  literature  must  be  small. 
But  this  criticism  is  possible  only  if  we  view  Lindsay 
simply  and  solely  as  a  versifier.  In  point  of  fact  he 
was  a  reformer  as  much  as  Knox  was,  and  a  versifier 
chiefly  that  he  might  be  a  reformer.  To  ignore  this  is 
to  leave  the  man  himself  out,  to  criticise  him  without 
that  sympathy  which  alone  makes  criticism  of  any  value. 
Very  different  is  the  last,  the  longest,  the  most  pro- 
foundly earnest  of  all  his  works.  The  Monarchic.  Its  date 
is  fixed  at  the  year  1553  by  a  computation  of  time  within 
the  poem  itself.  Everywhere  there  are  marks  that  it  is  the 
work  of  an  old  man  whose  task  is  now  to  learn  to  die. 
It  is  also  the  work  of  a  weary  man  whose  dearest  hopes 
have  been  disappointed.  More  than  once  Lindsay  breaks 
out  in  prayer,  dignified  from  its  heartfelt  earnestness,  for 
purity,  for  true  religion,  for  all  that  may  lift  his  country 
from  its  miserable  condition.     For  the  gloom  which  hangs 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  VVEDDERBURNS.  Zl 

over   The  Monnrchie   is   not   a   personal   and    selfish    one. 
The  author's  desire  for  himself  is  summed  up  in  the  wish 
to  be  at  rest.     But  rest  was  impossible  for  Lindsay  while 
the  country  he  had  served  from  boyhood  was  still  torn  and 
rent  from  within  and  from  without,  while  the  evils  against 
which  he  had  consistently  striven  were  still  rampant ;  and 
so   he  lifts   his  dying  voice  for  the  last   time  in   a   long 
protest    against    abuses,    civil    and    spiritual,    against    the 
tyranny  of  nobles,  the  pride  of  prelates,  the  oppression  of 
power  in  all  its  forms.     But  he  is  too  worn  in  spirit  to  wield 
effectually   his    favourite   weapon,    satire.       In   a   dialogue 
between  Experience   and  a  Courtier,   in   the  plainest  and 
directest  terms,  without  trick  or  artifice,  he  expounds  the 
causes    of  the   evils    of   the   commonweal.       He    lays   his 
finger  on  the  disordered  pulse  of  the  country,  and  names 
the  disease. 

If  Lindsay  had  been  an  artist,  if  he  had  understood  the 
supreme  importance   of  selection   and   condensation.    The 
Monarchie  would  have  been  a  great  work,  not  because  of 
poetic  talent,  but  from  sheer  weight  of  earnestness.      Un- 
fortunately no  man  ever  less  comprehended  the  importance 
of  selection  ;  and  in  consequence  the  poem  is  in  great  part 
worthless.     No  better  plan  occurs  to  him  than  to  throw  his 
ideas  into  the  form  of  a  universal  history,  in  which  he  traces 
the  fortunes  of  humanity  from  Adam  to  the  day  of  doom, 
and  even  a  little  after  it.     No   one  cares  to  hear  in  his 
verse  the  story  of  the  fall,  of  the  flood,  of  the  building  of 
Babel,  of  the  four  great  monarchies.     It  is  when  from  time 
to  time  he  refers  to  his  own  country,  or  when  his  earnest- 
ness for  truth  almost  rises  to  a  cry,  that  he  shows  his  genu- 
ine strength.     He  is  fully  himself  only  where  he  warns  the 


34  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

tyrant  lords  and  barons  that  small  mercy  awaits  them  at  the 
Judgment,  or  where  he  examines  the  double  monarchy, 
temporal  and  spiritual,  of  the  Papacy.  For  more  and 
more  as  time  went  on  the  dispute  about  religion  drew 
everything  else  into  its  vortex,  so  tliat  men  who,  like 
Lindsay,  were  interested  in  public  affairs,  and  yet  not  so 
immersed  in  their  current  as  to  be  drowned  in  details, 
fixed  their  eyes  upon  this  dispute  as  that  the  solution  of 
which  carried  all  the  rest  along  with  it.  As  The  Monarchic 
is  more  direct  and  definite  than  The  Satyre,  it  affords  better 
grounds  for  forming  a  judgment  as  to  the  exact  length  to 
which  Lindsay  was  prepared  to  go ;  and  with  respect  to  the 
literary  leader  of  the  attack  on  the  Church,  it  is  worth  while 
to  come  to  some  conclusion  on  the  point. 

Only  the  prejudice  which  rages  over  the  debatable 
ground  of  religion  could  so  long  have  blinded  multitudes 
of  men  to  the  fact,  certain  a  priori  and  established  by 
ample  testimony,  that  what  we  call  Protestant  opinions 
were  the  result  of  growth,  not  the  creation  of  a  moment, 
the  work  of  a  single  mind,  or  the  effect  of  some  sudden 
rush  of  inspiration.  Through  the  labours  of  men  like 
Patrick  Hamilton  and  George  Wishart  the  way  was  prepared 
for  Knox  ;  and  Knox  himself,  not  only  in  his  unregenerate 
youth,  but  even  in  the  early  days  of  his  reforming  zeal, 
accepted  many  articles  of  faith  and  many  practices  which 
he  afterwards  denounced  with  all  the  warmth  of  which 
language  is  capable.  The  same  is  true  of  the  literary  party 
whose  sympathies  went  with  the  Reformers.  Lindsay  is 
justly  ranked  as  a  Reformer.  Few  indeed  of  the  profes- 
sional theologians  exercised  as  much  influence  as  he;  but 
his  life  and  death  lie  before  the  time  when  the  Reformation 


1 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         35 

first  took  shape.  Before  the  signature  of  the  Band  of 
Association  of  December  3,  1557,  which  first  joined 
together  the  body  afterwards  known  as  the  Lords  of  the 
Congregation,  reform  was  a  vague  aspiration,  and  sym- 
pathy with  it  might  be  compatible  with  much  difference 
of  opinion. 

Lindsay's  position  is  exceptionally  clear.  He  was  never 
a  Reformer  in  the  sense  of  definitely  rejecting  the  authority 
of  the  Papacy;  nor  had  he  any  objection  to  prelacy  as  a 
form  of  Church  government.  It  was  the  abuses  which  had 
grown  up  in  the  Church  of  Rome  which  roused  his  ire,  no 
theoretic  conviction  of  the  unscriptural  character  of  the 
system.  Purity  of  administration  more  than  change  of 
doctrine  was  what  he  demanded.  He  reiterated  again  and 
again  the  conviction  that  the  temporal  sovereignty  of  the 
Popes  and  the  wealth  of  the  Church  were  the  prime  sources 
of  all  the  evil.  "  O  Empriour  Constantyne,"  he  makes 
the  "  religious  men "  in  the  place  of  torment  exclaim  in 
The  Dretne^ 

"O  Empriour  Constantyne, 
We  may  wyit  thy  possessioun  poysonabyll 
Of  all  our  great  punytioun  and  pyne  " ; 

and  the  note  thus  struck  in  the  first  of  Lindsay's  poems 
still  sounds  in  the  last.  Let  the  prelates  lead  chaste  lives, 
be  the  protectors,  not  the  oppressors  of  the  poor,  and  do 
their  duty  as  preachers  and  teachers  of  religion  :  these  are 
his  demands. 

But  besides  a  willingness  to  own  the  authority  of  the 
Pope,  provided  the  Pope  would  abate  his  high  pretensions 
to  temporal  supremacy  and  reform  himself  and  his 
subordinates,   we   can   detect    in    Lindsay   an  acceptance. 


36  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

either  absolute  or  modified,  of  other  doctrines  which  were 
the  special  abhorrence  of  the  later  Scottish  Protestants. 
If  he  was  not  prepared  to  worship  the  Virgin,  he  was  certainly 
willing  to  pay  her  the  most  marked  reverence,  and  she  was 
still  to  him  at  the  end  of  his  life  the  "virgene  quene  of  quenis." 
In  his  views  with  regard  to  the  use  of  images  he  stands 
half-way  between  the  ultimate  theory  of  the  Reformers  and 
the  practice  of  the  Catholic  Church.  He  condemns  the 
worship  of  images  or  any  approach  to  it,  but  allows  their 
use  as  an  aid  to  devotion — 

"Seand  the  Image  of  the  Rude, 
Men  suld  remember  on  the  blude." 

In  Other  words,  he  accepts  the  Catholic  theory,  while  he 
condemns  the  abuses  which  had  been  suffered  to  gather 
round  it. 

In  these  respects  Lindsay  would  not  have  satisfied  the 
later  Reformers  :  on  other  points  he  has  less  of  sympathy 
with  the  old  faith.  Questions  purely  doctrinal,  though 
they  are  not  absent,  fill  less  space  in  his  mind  than  matters 
in  which  sacerdotal  usage  or  tradition  infringe  upon  secular 
interests  or  war  against  public  morals.  The  rapacity  and 
extortion  of  the  clergy,  the  iniquity  of  the  corse- 
present,  on  these  themes  his  wrath  is  at  white  heat.  Celi- 
bacy is  condemned  in  the  interests  of  public  morals, 
pilgrimages  chiefly  on  the  same  ground.  The  latter  theme 
Lindsay  handles  in  a  way  which  forcibly  recalls  The  Holy 
Fair.  He  has  not  the  fine  touch  of  Burns,  but  the  sub- 
stance of  his  verse  is  the  same ;  and  it  is  highly  interesting 
to  notice  that  when  the  reformed  religion  itself  needed 
reformation,  the  new  scourge  of  the  Kirk  had  precisely 
the  same  material  for  satire  ready  to  his  hand.     From  the 


LINDSA  V  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         17 

fact  that  some  of  the  Scottish  clergy  have  never  forgiven 
Burns,  not  for  his  sins  but  for  his  sarcasm  on  their  order,i 
we  can  form  some  judgment  how  the  Romish  clergy  must 
have  hated  Lindsay,  and  must  wonder  all  the  more  that, 
armed  as  they  were  with  fire  and  sword,  they  never  wreaked 
their  vengeance  upon  him. 

Even  when  his  theme  naturally  suggested  a  doctrinal 
handling,  Lindsay  loved  to  view  it  from  the  civil  side. 
Thus,  Purgatory,  which  he  had  previously  accepted  in 
submission  to  the  true  Kirk,  but  afterwards  definitely 
rejected,  he  viewed  as  the  most  potent  means  by  which 
the  priests  had  climbed  to  greatness.  For  that  reason 
they  had  no  choice  but  to  hold  by  it,  and  for  that  reason 
too  those  who  wished  to  reform  them  were  obliged  to 
wrest  it  from  their  grasp.  In  the  same  way,  Lindsay 
objected  to  auricular  confession  on  the  ground  that  the 
laying  bare  of  the  soul  to  a  man  whose  own  mind  was 
dark  put  in  unscrupulous  hands  an  awful  power. 

It  seems  evident  then  that,  while  Lindsay  did  not 
contemplate  or  desire  an  absolute  breach  with  the  Church 
of  Rome,  while  his  position  and  policy  were  far  from  being 
the  position  and  policy  which  ultimately  found  favour  and 
under  which  the  old  order  was  swept  clean  away,  he  did 
wish  and  strenuously  advocate  very  radical  reforms.  He 
was  in  spirit  a  Protestant ;  but,  because  he  was  an  early  Pro- 
testant, he  did  not  present  all  the  features  which  are 
visible  at  a  later  date.  We  may  be  quite  certain  that, 
had  he  lived  two  or  three  years  longer,  he  would  have 
been  found  among  the  Lords  of  the  Congregation ;  and, 
had  his  days  been  still  further  extended,  life-long  servant 

■*  See  Shairp's  Burns. 


38  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

of  the  Stuarts  though  he  had  been,  he  would  have  joined 
the  opposition  led  by  Knox  against  Mary.  The  later 
development  of  the  Scottish  Reformation  was  determined 
almost  as  much  by  the  force  of  circumstances  as  by  delib- 
erate choice.  It  is  puerile  to  fancy  that  all  the  doctrines 
of  Knox  were  arrived  at  through  an  unbiased  study  of 
Scripture,  and  by  a  clear  vision  of  divine  truth.  Every 
man's  opinions  are  largely  made  for  him ;  they  are 
in  the  making  every  day ;  and  Lindsay,  had  he  been 
in  the  whirl  and  strife,  would  have  been  led  to  adopt 
opinions  and  advocate  measures  which  to  his  calmer 
judgment  in  his  retirement  did  not  seem  necessary  or  ex- 
pedient, 

No  elaborate  summing-up  of  Lindsay's  work  and  position 
is  necessary  :  he  has  spoken  for  himself.  He  was  not  a 
great  poet;  although  in  a  few  passages,  such  as  the  prologue 
to  T/ie  Dretne  and  the  prologue  to  The  Monarchic,  he 
shows  the  marks  of  a  poetic  mind,  imagination  was  not 
his  strongest  faculty.  His  own  words,  "  I  did  never  sleip 
on  Pernasso,"  had  perhaps  a  deeper  truth  than  he  realised. 
His  work  is  inartistic,  harsh  in  versification,  formless  in  style, 
marred  by  a  coarseness  which  it  would  be  difficult  to 
parallel,  impossible  to  outdo.  All  attempts  to  palliate  his 
defects  are  vain.  The  appeal  to  the  coarseness  of  the  age 
is  but  a  partial  excuse,  and  any  other  is  out  of  the  question. 
The  Kirk  was  not  without  excuse  in  putting  sternly  down 
exhibitions  which  admitted  of  ribaldry  and  licentiousness 
such  as  we  find  in  The  Satyre  of  the  Thric  Estaitis.  And 
yet,  the  more  Lindsay  is  read,  the  firmer  will  be  the  con- 
viction that  all  this  is  external  to  his  work.  Despite  his 
faults   he  still  retains  a  true  claim   to   greatness,  namely, 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         39 

that  of  being  the  literary  leader  in  the  Reformation  of  the 
life  and  faith  of  his  time. 

For  this  task  he  was  much  better  equipped  than  he  was 
to  enter  into  competition  for  the  poetic  laurel  with  his 
predecessor  Dunbar  or  even  with  Gavin  Douglas.  He 
had  the  keen  humour  which  has  characterised  his  country- 
men from  Dunbar  to  Carlyle.  He  was  a  close  observer 
with  ample  opportunities  of  knowing  all  classes ;  and  he 
had  the  shrewd  sense  necessary  to  sift  his  experience.  He 
was  not  deeply  learned  ;  but  he  had  a  sufficient  fund  of 
information  to  supply  him  with  copious  historical  and 
traditionary  illustrations  whenever  he  wanted  them.  The 
result  is  such  as  we  might  expect.  Lindsay's  satire  is  by 
no  means  highly  polished  ;  but  it  is  a  sound  serviceable 
weapon,  and  it  cuts.  But  to  the  making  of  successful  satire 
— meaning  by  this,  satire  which  influences  action — there  go 
certain  moral  qualities  as  well  as  intellectual  powers ;  and 
Lindsay  possessed  these  too.  He  was  a  man  of  singular 
tenacity  of  character  :  what  his  mind  once  grasped 
it  held.  He  was  single-minded  :  only  once  or  twice  does 
he  speak  for  personal  advancement,  and  then  he  does  it 
with  vigour  and  decision  but  with  dignity.  Above  all,  he 
had  the  courage  to  brave  the  vengeance  of  powerful  enemies 
and  to  hold  firm  although  he  saw  others  suffer  for 
offences  less  than  his.  It  was  by  virtue  of  these  quali- 
ties that  Lindsay  became  not  only  the  first  satirist  (in 
the  vernacular)  of  his  time,  but  a  power  in  the  State  as 
well.  He  carried  the  torch  sometimes  when  there  was  no 
one  else  to  bear  it.  He  was  influential  with  the  King. 
He  was  persevering.  He  knew  that  abuses  take  a  great 
deal  of  killing,  and  he  redoubled  his  blows  once  and  again 


40  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

until  they  took  effect.  He  lived  to  see  some  of  the  reforms 
he  had  advocated  actually  carried  out  and  more  of  them 
in  train  :  a  few  years  longer  and  he  would  have  seen  all 
and  more  than  all  his  aspirations  for  religion  in  a  fair 
way  of  being  realised. 

While  the  motives  of  Lindsay  were  half  political,  half 
theological,  there  were  other  versifiers  whose  inspiration 
was  entirely  drawn  from  hatred  of  the  erring  Church  of 
Rome.  The  most  curious  literary  relic  of  the  age  of  the 
Reformation  is  the  astounding  collection  known  as  The 
Glide  and  Godly  Ballates}  Neither  the  date  nor  the 
authorship  of  this  remarkable  book  can  be  regarded  as 
certain.  Tradition  and  several  old  authorities  concur  in 
assigning  it  to  the  Wedderburns  of  Dundee  ;  and  though 
modern  criticism  has  suggested  doubt,-  it  is  reasonably  safe 
to  follow  the  authority  of  Calderwood  ^  and  Row,*  sup- 
ported by  James  Melville's  Diary ^  and  by  the  fact  that  the 
collection  soon  after  the  date  of  the  earliest  known  edition 
was  popularly  spoken  of  by  the  name  of  the  Dundee 
Psalms.  No  doubt  it  is  of  the  nature  of  a  miscellany,  and 
other  hands  than  those  of  the  Wedderburns  may  have 
contributed  to  it ;  but  the  natural  inference  from  its  un- 
broken association  with  their  name  is  that  their  share  in 
it  was  so  great  as  to  make  it  practically  their  work. 

'The  full  title  is  worth  tjuoting  :— "  Ane  compendious  booke  of 
godly  and  spiritual!  songs,  collectit  out  of  sundiie  partes  of  the 
Scripture,  with  sundrie  of  other  ballates  changed  out  of  prophane 
sanges,  for  avoyding  of  sinne  and  harlotrie,  with  augmentation  of 
sundrie  gude  and  godly  ballates  not  contained  in  the  first  edition." 
^See  Laing's  Introduction  to  The  Gude  and  Godly  Ballates. 
■■'I.    142-3.  *HisL,  ]-).  6.  "p.  23,  Wodrow. 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         41 

There  were  three  brothers  Wedderburn  of  Dundee,  all 
of  pronounced  literary  tastes.  James,  the  eldest,  has 
already  been  mentioned  in  connexion  with  the  early 
drama.  It  is  his  two  younger  brothers,  John  and  Robert, 
who  are  believed  to  have  been  chiefly  responsible  for  The 
Glide  and  Godly  Ballatcs.  John  was  twice  driven  into 
exile  on  account  of  religion.  On  the  first  occasion  he 
took  refuge  in  Germany,  where  he  was  still  more  deeply 
tainted  with  heresy.  Calderwood  says  that  he  translated 
many  of  Luther's  hymns  and  the  Psalms  into  Scottish 
metre,  and  also  turned  a  number  of  loose  songs  to  the 
purposes  of  religion.  He  returned  to  Scotland  after  the 
death  of  James  V.  in  1542,  but  was  compelled  by  Cardinal 
Beaton  to  flee  to  England,  where  he  died  in  1556.  Robert 
Wedderburn  led  a  quieter  life  than  his  two  elder  brothers, 
though  he  too  was  not  free  from  trouble  of  a  similar 
character.  He  retired  into  France  during  the  ascendency 
of  Beaton,  returned  after  the  death  of  the  Cardinal,  suc- 
ceeded his  uncle  Robert  Barrie  as  Vicar  of  Dundee,  and, 
so  far  as  is  known,  held  that  oftice  till  his  death.  This  fact 
is  advanced  as  an  argument  against  the  common  account 
of  his  connexion  with  The  Glide  afid  Godly  Ballates;  but  in 
those  years  of  confusion  there  were  many  anomalies,  and 
notwithstanding  his  official  position  he  may  have  written 
some  of  the  parodies. 

The  question  of  the  date  is  intimately  connected  with 
that  of  the  authorship  of  this  collection.  If  the  Wedder- 
burns  were  the  authors  we  must  date  its  beginnings  be- 
tween the  years  1539-46,  when  they  were  all  objects  of 
suspicion,  and  when  John  Wedderburn  is  expressly  stated 
to   have   been    translating    from   the    German,   etc.       This 


42  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

renders  the  Wedderburns'  authorship  of  The  Ballates  all  the 
more  probable  ;  for  there  is  evidence  in  them  of  German 
influence.^  It  is  true  that  the  oldest  known  edition  belongs 
to  the  year  1578,  and  that  no  reference  to  the  book  can  be 
discovered  earlier  than  1570 ;  and  it  is  also  true  that  in  the 
collection  as  we  now  have  it  there  are  allusions  to  the  great 
revolution  of  1560.  But  this,  far  from  settling,  hardly 
affects  the  question.  The  probability  is  that  The  Glide  and 
Godly  Ballates  are  scattered  over  a  period  of  at  least  twenty 
years.  They  would  be  circulated  at  first  separately  as 
fugitive  ballads,  and  very  likely  the  idea  of  gathering  them 
together  was  only  an  afterthought  begotten  of  their  popul- 
arity. If  so,  the  absence  of  early  references  to  them  is 
easily  explained  :  the  fugitive  pieces  of  popular  poetry  are 
never  important  enough  to  attract  attention  until  they  are 
threatening  to  disappear;  and  had  these  Godly  Ballates 
dealt  with  any  other  subject  than  religion  they  might  have 
passed  unnoticed  and  uncollected  for  generations. 

The  Glide  and  Godly  Ballates  is  a  unique  book.  It 
is  partly  satirical  and  iconoclastic,  partly  dogmatic  and 
reconstructive.  It  seeks  at  once  to  attack  Popery,  and 
to  inculcate  the  positive  doctrines  of  the  Protestants  in 
the  way  best  calculated  to  appeal  to  the  popular  under- 
standing and  to  dwell  in  the  popular  memory.  This 
conjunction  of  aims  accounts  for  the  character  of  the 
book.  It  is  prefaced  with  a  short  prose  statement  of 
some  of  the  most  important  articles  of  Protestant  faith. 
But  the  authors  were  practical  enough  to  see  that  rhyme 
was  the  only  instrument  which  could   overcome   the  diffi- 

^  See    Prof.    Mitchell's   lecture    on    "  The   Wedderburns   and   their 
Work." 


LINDSAY  AND  THE  IVEDDERBURNS.         43 

culty  arising  from  the  limited  distribution  of  books  ;  and 
accordingly  the  bulk  of  it  is  in  verse.  The  Ten  Com- 
mandments, the  Creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  the  effects  of 
Baptism  and  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  are  all  set  forth  in 
metre.  After  these  comes  a  collection  of  "spirituall 
sangis,"  or  hymns,  with  paraphrases  of  certain  passages 
of  Scripture.  These  in  turn  are  followed  by  metrical 
versions  of  a  number  of  the  Psalms,  described  as  "  trans- 
lated out  of  Enchiridion  Fsalmorum."  The  end  of  the 
book,  by  far  the  most  remarkable  part,  consists  of  miscel- 
laneous pieces  of  a  lyrical  character,  many  of  them  parodies 
of  the  popular  songs  of  the  time. 

The  earlier  parts  of  the  collection  call  for  little  special 
remark  beyond  a  recognition  of  their  importance  in  their 
own  day.  They  were  a  factor  in  the  literary  contribution 
to  [the  settlement  of  the  dispute  of  the  churches.  They 
gave  the  people  something  definite  to  set  in  the  place  of 
the  Popery  which  was  attacked,  and,  above  all,  they  put 
that  something  in  a  portable  shape.  The  hymns  are 
generally  translations  or  paraphrases  from  the  German. 
From  a  literary  point  of  view  these  earlier  parts  are,  as  a 
rule,  vigorous,  but  often  heavy  and  unrhythmical.  The 
parodies  are  much  more  interesting,  though  they  are  also, 
to  the  modern  mind,  more  questionable.  They  throw 
a  few  rays  of  light  on  the  dark  subject  of  early  Scottish 
songs ;  and  they  are  in  themselves  pointed  and  telling, 
far  beyond  anything  else  that  the  Wedderburns  have  left. 
The  reason  is  partly  that  a  poet  of  but  moderate  gifts 
is  helped  by  having  some  guide  to  his  imagination  ;  but 
partly  also  because  the  work  of  criticism  and  destruction 
was  always  that  which  was  best  done  in  those  days.     Men 


44  SCOTTISH  LITER ATU RE. 

lived  in  a  state  of  moral  warfare,  and  they  were  most 
themselves  when  their  hand  was  raised  against  their 
neighbour.  This  side  of  their  work  is  however  a  delicate 
one  to  touch  upon.  Knox,  the  apostle  of  all  that  was 
highest  in  the  Scottish  Reformation,  handled  the  mysteries 
of  the  Catholic  faith  in  a  manner  which  no  free-thinker 
with  a  grain  of  reverence  left  in  his  mind  would  now  per- 
mit himself  to  use ;  and  Buchanan,  the  embodiment  of 
scholarly  taste,  saw  nothing  offensive  in  such  attacks. 
And  what  Buchanan  and  Knox  did  in  Scotland,  other 
leaders  did  in  other  countries.  The  authors  of  The  Gude 
and  Godly  Ballates  sinned  in  good  company;  but  the  fact 
remains  that  some  of  their  parodies  are  unquotable,  some- 
times for  irreverence,  in  other  cases  for  coarseness.  That 
founded  on  Hay,  trix,  trim  goe  trix  in  particular  is  a 
marvellous  specimen  of  riotous  and  seemingly  delighted 
satire  on  the  sensuality  of  the  Romish  priesthood  and 
religious  orders.  It  must  have  been  effective  against  them, 
but  we  may  doubt  whether  it  helped  in  the  suppression  of 
"sinne  and  harlotrie."  Blots  of  this  kind  have  been 
excused  or  palliated  on  the  ground  that  the  grossest  of  the 
ballads  are  less  gross  than  much  of  Lindsay.  This  is  true, 
but  not  satisfactory ;  for,  in  the  first  place,  Lindsay  is  inde- 
fensible, and,  secondly,  his  grossness  occurs  in  a  different 
context.  Byron's  Vision  of  Judginent  has  a  right  to  exist 
in  literature,  but  not  side  by  side  with  the  services  of  the 
Church  ;  and  JoJui  Gilpitt  would  be  out  of  place  among 
Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern.  The  following  verses  give 
a  good  idea  of  the  satiric  point  of  the  godly  ballates : — 

"Of  the  fals  fyre  of  Puryatorie 
Is  nocht  left  in  ane  sponk  ; 


LINDSA  V  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         45 

Thairfoir  sayis  Gedde,  way  is  me, 
Gone  is  preist,  freir,  and  monk. 

"The  reik,  sa  woundir  deir,  thay  solde 
For  money,  gold,  and  landis  ; 
Quhile  halfe  the  riches  on  the  molde, 
Is  seasit  in  thair  handis. 

"  Thay  knew  na  thing  bot  couetice, 
And  lufe  of  paramouris  : 
Thay  lat  the  souHs  burn  and  bis 
Of  all  thair  Foundatouris. 

"At  corps  presence  thay  wold  sing, 
For  ryches  to  slokkin  the  fyre  ; 
Bot  all  pure  folk  that  had  na  thing 
Was  skaldit  baine  and  lyre. 

"Zit  sat  thay  heich  in  Parliament 
Lyke  Lordis  of  greit  renowne  : 
Quhill  now  that  the  New  Testament 
Hes  it  and  thame  brocht  downe. 

"  And  thocht  thay  fuffe  at  it,  and  blaw, 
Ay  quhile  thair  bellyis  rj'ue ; 
The  mair  thay  blaw,  full  weill  thay  knaw, 
The  mair  it  dois  misthryue.  " 

The  next  piece  is  founded  upon  a  popular  tune  mentioned 
in  The  Coviplaynt  of  Scotland,  and  illustrates  the  relation 
between  The  Gude  and  Godly  Ballates  and  popular 
poetry : — 

"  With  huntis  vp,  with  huntis  vp. 
It  is  now  perfite  day, 
Jesus,  our  King,  is  gane  in  hunting, 
Quha  lykis  to  speid  thay  may. 

"  Ane  cursit  fox  lay  hid  in  rox 
This  lang  and  mony  ane  day, 
Deuouring  scheip,  quhile  he  micht  creip, 
Naue  micht  him  schaip  away. 


46  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

"  It  did  him  gude  to  laip  the  blude 
Of  zoung  and  tender  lamniis  ; 
Nane  culd  he  mis,  for  all  was  his, 
The  zoung  anis  with  thair  dammis. 

"  The  hunter  is  Christ,  that  huntis  in  haist, 
The  hundis  ar  Peter  and  Paull, 
The  Paip  is  the  foxe,  Rome  is  the  rox, 
That  rubbis  vs  on  the  gall. 

"  That  cruell  beist,  he  neuer  ceist, 
Be  his  vsurpit  power, 
Under  dispens  to  get  our  penneis, 
Our  saulis  to  deuoir. 

"  Quha  culd  deuyse  sic  merchandise, 
As  he  had  thair  to  sell, 
Onles  it  war  proud  Lucifer, 
The  greit  maister  of  Hell. 

"  He  had  to  sell  the  Tantonie  bell, 
And  pardonis  thairin  was  ; 
Remissioun  of  sinnis  in  auld  schiep  skinnis, 
Our  saulis  to  bring  from  grace. 

"With  buUis  of  leid,  quhyte  wax  and  reid. 
And  vther  quhylis  with  grene, 
Closit  in  ane  box,  this  vsit  the  fox, 
Sic  peltrie  was  neuer  sene. 

"  With  dispensatiounis  and  ol)ligatiounis, 
According  to  his  law. 
He  wald  dispens,  for  money  from  hence, 
With  thame  he  neuer  saw. 

"  To  curs  and  ban  the  sempill  pure  man, 
That  had  nocht  to  fle  the  pane  ; 
Bot  quhen  he  had  payit  all  to  ane  myte. 
He  mon  be  absoluit  than. 

"To  sum,  God  wot,  he  gaue  tot  quot. 
And  vther  sum  pluralitie  ; 
Bot  first  with  penneis  he  mon  dispens. 
Or  ellis  it  will  nocht  be. 


LINDSA  Y  AND  THE  WEDDERBURNS.         47 

"  Kingis  to  marie,  and  sum  to  tarie, 
Sic  is  his  power  and  micht, 
Quha  that  hes  gold,  with  him  will  he  hold, 
Thocht  it  be  contrair  all  richt, 

"  O  blissit  Peter,  the  fox  is  ane  lier, 
Thow  knawis  weill  it  is  nocht  sa, 
Quhill  at  the  last,  he  salbe  downe  cast, 
His  peltrie,  pardonis,  and  all."^ 

The  difference  between  the  work  of  Lindsay,  as  bear- 
ing on  the  Reformation,  and  that  of  the  Wedderburns 
is  very  apparent.  Lindsay  is  more  weighty,  more  sober, 
more  moderate  in  his  criticisms.  The  Wedderburns 
frequently  exhibit  all  the  excess  of  parodists.  The  dif- 
ference was  probably  in  part  one  of  years.  Lindsay  was 
an  older  man  than  any  of  the  Wedderburns,  his  work 
on  the  whole  of  a  somewhat  earlier  date.  Partly  also 
it  may  be  ascribed  to  difference  of  character.  Lindsay's 
method  was  the  more  appropriate  for  opening  the  ques- 
tion; that  of  the  Wedderburns  was  admirably  adapted 
to  foster  and  deepen  hostility  to  the  Church  of  Rome 
once  that  hostility  had  fairly  taken  root  among  the 
people.  At  an  earlier  date  The  Gude  and  Godly  Ballates 
would  not  only  have  exposed  their  authors  to  the 
vengeance  of  the  Church,  but  would  have  turned  the 
current  of  popular  sympathy  in  the  opposite  direction. 
In  both  their  literary  instruments  the  Reformers  were 
fortunate.  The  wide  and  enduring  popularity  of  Sir 
David  Lindsay  proves  this  in  the  one  case  ;  while  the 
countrymen   of  the    political  philosopher    who    said    that 

^The  English  had  also  parodies  of  a  like  cast.  There  is  one  on  this 
very  song  by  John  Thome.  See  Halliwell,  moral  play  of  Wit  and 
Science. 


4^  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

who  would  could  make  the  laws  of  a  country  if  he  might 
make  the  songs, ^  will  not  be  disposed  to  deny  the 
felicity  of  the  idea  of  enlisting  popular  poetry  on  the 
side  of  the  new  doctrines. 

^Fletcher  gives  this  as  a  quotation,  l:>ut  in  such  a  way  as  to  adopt  the 
sentiment. 


CHAPTER     II. 

THE  SCOTTISH   REFORMATION. 

GEORGE   BUCHANAN. 

Before  the  year  1890  the  only  full  account  of  the  life 
of  George  Buchanan  was  contained  in  the  laborious  but 
unattractive  memoir  by  David  Irving.  In  that  year 
there  appeared  a  scholarly  and  admirable  biography  of 
the  great  Latinist  by  Mr.  P.  Hume  Brown,  who  by  the 
skill  and  thoroughness  with  which  he  has  done  his  work 
has  laid  every  student  of  Buchanan  under  a  deep  obliga- 
tion. This  biography  is  styled,  "  George  Buchanan : 
Humanist  and  Reformer " ;  and  was  afterwards  censured 
on  the  ground  that  there  is  little  in  the  spirit  or  works 
of  Buchanan  to  entitle  him  to  the  name  of  Reformer. 
The  biographer  knew  better  than  his  critic.  If  by 
"reformer"  must  be  understood  a  person  with  a  new 
theological  system,  it  is  true  that  Buchanan  was  none ; 
but  if  we  use  the  word  in  a  wider  sense  as  indicating 
the  spirit  of  the  man  and  the  nature  of  his  influence, 
the  use  of  it  in  this  case  is  amply  justified.  In  the 
beginning  of  his  life  Buchanan  was,  as  will  presently 
appear,  a  powerful  and  effective  satirist  of  abuses  in 
religion ;  at  its  close  he  worked  in  harmony  with  the 
then    triumphant    leaders    of  the    Protestant    party ;    and 

D 


5  O  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

some  of  his  principal  writings  were  calculated,  either 
directly  from  their  dealing  with  religious  topics,  or  in- 
directly from  their  bearing  upon  the  cognate  questions  of 
politics,  to  further  their  principles.  In  Lindsay  and  the 
Wedderburns  we  hear  the  voice  of  literature  appealing  to 
the  people  against  the  corruptions  of  the  Church  of 
Rome ;  in  Buchanan  the  appeal  is  addressed  to  the 
world  of  scholarship.  Doubtless  Buchanan  has  other  in- 
terests besides  the  interest  in  purity  of  religion,  and  even 
stronger  interests  \  he  is  the  Erasmus  of  the  Scottish 
Reformation,  while  Knox  plays  the  part  of  the  Scottish 
Luther.  But  this  only  means  that  we  must  add 
"humanist"  to  "reformer,"  not  that  we  must  delete 
either. 

It  may  be  questioned  whether  there  was  any  man  in 
Britain  during  the  sixteenth  century  who  enjoyed  so 
wide  a  reputation  as  George  Buchanan.  Now,  there  is 
probably  no  Englishman  and  there  is  certainly  no  Scotch- 
man of  equal  power  whose  w'orks  are  so  entirely 
neglected.  A  vague  idea  of  his  personality  has  survived 
in  his  native  country.  His  caustic  sayings  were  of  a 
kind  to  dwell  in  the  memory;  and  his  connexion  with 
the  education  of  James  VL  impressed  upon  the  popular 
mind  some  of  the  more  prominent  features  of  his  char- 
acter. His  stoical  demeanour,  unawcd  by  royalty  and 
unbending  in  the  discharge  of  duty,  won  the  admiration 
of  his  countrymen  and  gave  him  a  place  in  popular 
tradition ;  but  how  unworthy  and  degrading  that  place 
became  is  proved  by  the  association  of  his  name  with 
the  contemptible  and  ribald  collection  of  stories  entitled 
The  Witty  atid  Entertauiino;  Exploits  of  George  Buchanan. 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  5  I 

Comparatively  few  have  an  intelligent  notion  of  the 
nature  and  scope  of  his  works ;  and  the  stereotyped 
criticisms  which  have  passed  current  from  generation 
to  generation  are  sufficient  evidence  that  some  of  those 
few  have  talked  about  them  rather  than  read  them. 
His  only  works  which  are  popularly  known  by  name 
are  the  History  of  Scotland  and  the  paraphrase  of 
the  Psalms,  regarding  the  latter  of  which  his  bio- 
grapher Irving  wrote  in  the  early  part  of  the  present 
century  that  it  was  read  in  many  schools  as  a  text-book 
of  the  Latin  language.  In  the  present  day  many  of  the 
class  of  readers  to  whom  Irving  refers,  and  not  a  few  of 
their  teachers,  would  be  unable  to  say  in  what  language 
the  famous  paraphrase  was  composed. 

The  chief  cause  of  this  oblivion,  which  affects  not 
only  Buchanan,  but  a  vast  amount  of  very  respectable 
talent  besides,^  lies  in  the  language  chosen.  It  restricts  the 
audience  at  once  to  those  who  have  a  knowledge  of  Latin ; 
and  even  of  these  the  majority  are  too  fully  occupied  with  the 
native  masters  of  the  language  to  have  much  time  to  spare 
for  the  scholars  of  the  Renaissance.  These  are  men  who 
stand  in  no  organic  connexion  with  any  body  of  literature 
comparable  with  the  great  national  literatures  of  ancient 
or  modern  times ;  and  consequently  those  among  them  who 
are  really  worth  study  miss  it  because  they  lack  the  support 
which  a  great  writer  derives  from  his  fellows.  They  may 
be  ransacked  for  purposes  of  research,  but  they  are  seldom 
studied  from  the  point  of  view  of  literature.  The  neglect 
is  both  intelligible  and  in  most  cases  perfectly  just.     But 

^  The  Deliciae  Poetarum  Scotoruin  alone  represents  a  work!  of  forgotten 
lore  and  buried  power. 


5  2  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

Buchanan's  case  is  exceptional.  He  was  a  king  among 
his  tribe ;  he  lived  in  a  stirring  period ;  and  his  wide 
activity  was  not  entirely  confined  to  letters.  Persecuted 
for  his  attacks  on  the  monastic  orders  at  a  time  when 
Catholicism  was  still  the  religion  of  Scotland,  actively 
engaged  in  the  ])roceedings  against  Queen  Mary,  and 
author  of  a  work  which  deeply  influenced  the  English 
opponents  of  Charles  I.,  his  life  and  writings  everywhere 
touch  the  most  important  historical  movements. 

George  Buchanan  was  born  about  the  beginning  of 
February,  1506,  near  Killearn,  in  Stirlingshire.  He  sprang 
of  a  race  "  magis  vetusta  quam  opulenta."  He  was  one 
of  a  family  of  eight  children,  who  were  left  by  the  early 
death  of  the  father  in  a  condition  of  extreme  poverty. 
Their  mother  was  a  woman  of  strong  character,  and  she 
not  only  succeeded  in  bringing  up  all  her  children,  but 
gave  to  at  least  some  of  them  the  most  liberal  education 
that  the  age  afforded.  In  the  case  of  George  she  was 
assisted  by  her  brother,  James  Heriot,  who,  on  the 
strength  of  the  promise  which  the  boy  had  shown  in  the 
schools  of  the  neighbourhood,  sent  him,  in  the  year  1520, 
to  Paris.  But  Buchanan's  life  was  never  a  smooth  one. 
After  two  years  his  uncle  died ;  and,  pressed  by  poverty 
and  disease,  he  returned  to  his  native  country.  Ill  health 
kept  him  idle  for  nearly  a  year;  but  in  1523  he  joined 
the  forces  which  Albany  had  brought  from  France,  and 
took  part  in  the  inglorious  expedition  which  ended  in  the 
fruitless  siege  of  Wark  Castle.  He  says  he  took  this  step 
from  a  desire  to  learn  the  military  art,  and  the  reason  is 
notable :  universal  curiosity  is  one  of  the  features  of 
Buchanan's  character.     Exposure  again  brought  on  illness  ; 


I 
I 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  53 

but  after  an  invalid  winter  we  find  him  in  the  spring  of 
1525  at  St.  Andrews,  whither  he  went  to  hear  John 
Major,  "(jui  turn  ibi  dialecticen,  aut  verius  sophisticen,  in 
extrema  senectute  docebat."  Despite  the  terms  of  this 
reference,  Major  was  only  about  fifty-five  years  of  age  at 
that  time,  and  he  survived  till  1550. 

Not  only  here,  but  uniformly,  Buchanan  sneers  at  Major, 
speaking  of  him  in  one  of  his  epigrams  as  "  solo  cognomine 
Major."^  Nevertheless  Major  was  a  man  of  European 
reputation,  and  ranked  among  the  first  scholars  and 
philosophers  of  the  day.  He  had  been  trained  at  Paris, 
and  afterwards  held  the  position  of  regent  first  at  Glas- 
gow, then  at  St.  Andrews.  At  Glasgow  he  had  the 
honour  of  teaching  Knox,  and  although  he  never  identified 
himself  with  the  reformers  he  considerably  influenced  the 
Reformation.  On  the  authority  of  Scripture  and  of  common 
morality  he  freely  criticised  the  grosser  abuses  of  life  and 
doctrine  current  among  the  Romish  clergy;  and  these 
criticisms,  which  would  have  been  dangerous  in  another, 
were  submissively  accepted  from  the  mouth  of  a  man  who 
was  recognised  as  a  faithful  son  of  the  Church  and  one  of 
the  most  learned  of  living  theologians.  Thus  it  came  to 
pass  that  Major  was  made  a  sort  of  referee  between  the 
two  parties — the  reformers  sheltering  themselves  under 
the  authority  of  his  name,  and  the  party  of  the  old  Church 
listening  with  respect  to  the  judgment  of  their  own  greatest 
teacher.  But  perhaps  the  very  moderation  which  enabled 
Major  to  hold  this  position  is  the  secret  of  the  dissatis- 
faction of  his  fiery  pupil    Buchanan ;  and    his  fidelity  to 

1  The   words   are,    however,    adopted    from    Major   himself    (Hume 
Brown's  Buchanan,  p.  71). 


54  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

scholastic  methods,  already  becoming  old-fashioned,  was 
sure  to  offend  an  intellect  which  could  never  be  held  by 
the  cobwebs  of  custom. 

In  1526  Buchanan  followed  Major  to  Paris.  There, 
apparently  in  1529,  he  began  to  teach  in  the  College  of 
Ste.  Barbe,  and  has  left  on  record  his  experiences  in  the 
fine  elegy,  Qiiam  tnisera  sit  conditio  docentium  literas 
hiiniajiiores  Lutetiae.  But  notwithstanding  poverty  and 
other  miseries  Buchanan  always  retained  a  grateful  affec- 
tion for  Paris  and  always  showed  a  readiness  to  return 
thither.  Help  came  to  him  in  his  need  from  a  young 
Scottish  nobleman,  Gilbert  Kennedy,  Earl  of  Cassillis, 
who  was  then  residing  in  Paris.  He  employed  Buchanan  as 
his  tutor,  and  retained  him  in  that  office  for  several  years. 

The  date  of  Buchanan's  return  to  Scotland  cannot  be 
precisely  determined ;  but  it  is  certain  he  was  there  in 
the  early  part  of  1536.  The  state  of  Scotland  had 
radically  changed  during  his  absence.  Power  had  passed 
from  the  Douglases  into  the  hands  of  James  V.  himself. 
The  religious  controversy,  stilled  since  the  days  of  the 
Lollards  of  Kyle,  had  been  reopened  by  Patrick  Hamil- 
ton ;  and  Lindsay,  even  if  The  Satyre  of  the  Thrie 
Estaitis  was  still  unwritten,  had  dealt  several  hard 
blows  at  the  lives  and  teaching  of  the  priesthood. 
Buchanan  was  more  than  ready  for  this  movement.  In 
Paris  he  had  fallen  as  he  says  "  in  flammam  Lutheranae 
sectae";  and  he  brought  with  him  probably  a  wider 
knowledge  of  the  doctrinal  matters  in  dispute  than  was 
current  in  a  country  where  the  theology  of  Major  was 
still  the  chief  study  of  both  parties.  He  brought 
with  him  also  as  deep  a  dislike  of  the   monks  and  their 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  55 

lives  as  any  one  could  well  feel.  His  hostility  soon 
found  expression  in  writing.  After  his  return  from  the 
Continent  he  lived  for  a  time  in  the  country  with  the 
Earl  of  Cassillis,  and  there  he  wrote  the  short  satire  on 
the  Franciscans  entitled  Somnium^  the  earliest  of  his 
attacks  upon  that  order,  and  also  his  first  appearance  in 
a  field  which  Lindsay  had  already  made  his  own.  But 
Buchanan's  mode  of  handling  his  weapons  differs  as 
widely  from  Lindsay's  as  the  audience  of  the  learned 
differs  from  the  people.  Instead  of  the  rude  bludgeon 
style  of  the  vernacular  poet,  whose  literary  merit  is 
vigour  and  whose  practical  merit  is  suitability  to  the 
purpose  in  view,  we  have  the  polish  of  the  scholar  and 
the  delicate  touches  of  the  literary  artist.  The  Somniiim 
is  closely  imitated  from,  one  of  Dunbar's  poem's  pub- 
lished in  Laing's  edition  under  the  title  of  The  Visitation 
of  St.  Francis.  In  the  Somniutn  St.  Francis  appears  to 
the  writer  in  a  dream,  bearing  the  garments  of  the 
order,  which  he  bids  the  dreamer  don.  The  latter 
objects  that  they  do  not  fit  his  shoulders.  He  who 
wears  them  must  be  servile  and  shameless,  must  cheat 
and  wheedle  and  feign ;  and  after  all  the  cowl  seldom 
reaches  heaven — "  Vix  monachis  illic  creditur  esse  locus." 
Even  on  earth  it  is  to  bishops,  not  to  monks,  that 
monuments  are  raised  and  honours  paid.  The  poet  con- 
cludes by  begging  of  the  saint,  if  he  is  so  concerned  for 
his  welfare,  to  give  him  rather  a  mitre — 

"  Quilibet  hac  alius  mendicet  veste  superbus  : 
At  mihi  da  mitram,  purpureamque  togam." 

^Dedication  oi  Franciscamis.      This  dedication  is  dated   1564,  and 
speaks  of  tlie  Soimtiiim  as  composed  "  ante  annos  fere  triginta." 


S6  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

This  piece  was  only  the  first  of  a  series  which  won 
for  Buchanan  the  persevering  hatred  of  the  Franciscans 
and  soon  drove  him  into  a  long  exile.  Shortly  after  he 
had  written  it  he  was  called  from  his  retirement  to  take 
charge  of  the  education  of  an  illegitimate  son  of  the 
king,  whose  baptismal  name,  James,  has  led  to  his  being 
confounded  sometimes  with  his  more  famous  half-brother 
James  Stuart,  afterwards  Earl  of  Murray.  At  court 
Buchanan  found  that  the  fame  of  the  Somnium  had  pre- 
ceded him.  The  Franciscans  were  attempting  to  poison 
all  ears  against  him ;  but  James  had  his  own  reasons  for 
looking  with  a  favourable  eye  on  their  critic,  and  instead 
of  administering  a  rebuke  he  promptly  urged  Buchanan 
to  write  a  sharper  satire  against  them.^  The  result  of  this 
request  was  the  Palinodia,  which  is  printed  in  two  parts 
at  the  end  of  the  Fratres  Fraterrimi.  His  own  account 
of  the  matter  is  that  being  at  once  unwilling  to  offend 
the  king  and  afraid  to  provoke  further  the  anger  of  the 
Franciscans,  he  wrote  a  poem  so  ambiguous  that  it  could 
be  read  either  favourably  or  unfavourably  ;  but  the  only 
result  of  his  ingenuity  was  tliat  he  displeased  both 
parties,  and  was  required  by  the  King  to  apply  stimuli 
"qui  non  modo  summam  perstringerent  cutem,  sed  in 
intima  usque  praecordia  penetrarent " ;  and  thus  he  was 
led  on  to  write  the  Fra7iciscanus. 

Such  is  the  account  of  the  origin  of  those  great 
satires  given  in  the  Dedication  of  the  Fra?iciscanus  to 
the  F.arl  of  Murray.  It  is  repeated  with  little  variation 
in  the  Vita;  and  critic  after  critic  has  with  admirable 
docility  accepted  it  as  a  simple  statement  of  fact.  But 
^Dedication  of  Franciscanus. 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  57 

in  view  of  the  character  of  the  Palinodia  it  is  absolutely- 
impossible  to  regard  the  narrative  as  anything  but  irony^; 
to  take  it  literally  is  to  cast  a  slur  upon  the  intelligence 
of  James.  If  in  the  Somjiiiini  the  poet  chastised  his 
enemies  with  whips,  in  the  Palinodia  he  chastises  them 
with  scorpions.  There  is  no  reason  whatever  to  doubt  the 
statement  that  it  was  also  at  the  King's  request  that  the 
Franciscanus  was  begun  ;  but  probably  it  was  his  delight 
in  the  Palinodia,  not  his  dissatisfaction  with  it,  that 
caused  him  to  wish  for  more  from  the  same  pen.  At 
the  King's  command  then  Buchanan  again  began  to 
write.  He  submitted  his  work,  still  unfinished,  to  James; 
but  in  fear  of  the  enmity  of  the  Franciscans,  who  Avere 
already  sufficiently  hostile,  he  refrained  from  divulging  it 
to  anyone  else.  The  precaution  was  vain.  Buchanan 
fell  a  victim  to  the  persecution  of  1539.  He  was  thrown 
into  prison,  but  escaped  through  the  window  when  his 
guards  were  asleep.^  The  story  even  as  it  stands  with- 
out comment  in  Buchanan's  History  is  far  from  credit- 
able to  James.  He  had  urged  Buchanan  on  against  the 
Franciscans  when  he  himself  was  hostile  to  them ;  but 
the  moment  his  policy  changed  he  abandoned  the  tutor 
of  his  son  to  their  vengeance.  In  the  Vita  the  same 
story  wears  an  uglier  look :  "  Per  amicos  ex  aula 
certior  factus  se  peti,  et  Cardinalem  Betonium  a  Rege 
pecunia  vitam  ejus   mercari,  elusis  custodibus  in  Angliam 

^Mr.  Hume  Brown  (whose  study  of  Buchanan  has  been  of  the  most 
thorough  kind)  conjectures  that  "  alterations  and  additions  may  have 
been  made  on  the  poems  as  originally  written  "  (p.  93).  They  must 
have  been  rewritten  if  we  are  to  take  Buchanan's  account  literally  ;  and 
it  is  to  be  remembered  that  that  account  refers  to  the  poems  as  we  know 
them.  -  Buchanan,  Opera,  I.  277,  Ruddiman. 


5  8  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

contendit."^  So  insecure  was  life  in  those  days  that  it 
was  considered  matter  for  special  thankfulness  that  he 
escaped  both  the  freebooters  of  the  Border  and  the 
plague  then  raging  in  the  north  of  England.  It  was 
probably  now  that  he  addressed  the  lines  to  Cromwell 
and  to  Henry  VIII.  which  are  printed  in  the  Miscellanies 
with  the  epitaph  on  Nicholas  Bacon,  "tamdiu  Britannici 
Regni  secundum  columen,"  wedged  in  between  them. 
But  these  verses  failed  to  bring  the  reward  which 
Buchanan  perhaps  hoped  for ;  and  making  no  stay  in 
England  he  passed  over  into  France,  where  he  was  lost 
for  many  years  to  Scottish  affairs. 

The  Franciscanus  thus  interrupted  was  left  untouched 
during  Buchanan's  long  exile.  A  quarter  of  a  century  after- 
wards it  was  resumed  in  widely  different  circumstances, 
and  was  published  in  1564  with  a  dedication  to  the  Earl 
of  Murray.  The  Protestant  party  was  then  triumphant, 
and  the  satirist  of  the  monks  might  expect  reward 
instead  of  punishment.  Though  however  the  Franciscanus 
as  a  published  work  belongs  to  Buchanan's  old  age,  in 
spirit  and  plan  and  partly  in  execution  it  belongs,  as 
has  been  seen,  to  an  earlier  period.  With  the  Fratres 
Fraterriiiii,  a  collection  of  miscellaneous  pieces  directed 
against  the  Romish  Church,  it  forms  one  great  division 
of  Buchanan's  works,  the  authorship  of  which  entitles 
him  to  rank  as  one  of  the  great  literary  champions  of 
the  Scottish  Reformation.  It  requires  only  to  be  more 
widely  known  and  fairly  weighed  to  rank  him  also  as 
one  of  the  foremost  satirists  of  all  time. 

^  Knox  {Work,  I.  71)  roundly  asserts  tliat  James  "caused  putt  hands 
in  that  notable  man,  Maistir  Georj^e  IJalquhanan." 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  59 

That  which  renders  the  vast  mass  of  mediaeval  and 
modern  Latin  poetry  unreal  and  its  study  a  vanity  is 
its  artificiality  both  o'i  subject  and  treatment.  It  stands 
apart  from  life  and  its  sympathies,  and  wastes  itself  in 
the  attempt  to  revivify  a  dead  past.  This  objection 
applies  to  much  of  Buchanan's  own  work ;  but  in  the 
religious  satires  he  had  found  a  subject  emphatically  real 
and  emphatically  of  the  present.  Just  as  the  War  of 
Independence  had  formed  the  Scottish  nation  in  the  past, 
so  the  struggle  for  a  pure  religion  was  destined  to  colour 
and  direct  the  national  life  for  generations  to  come. 
It  is  his  adoption  of  this  as  his  theme  that  gives 
strength  to  Buchanan's  satire.  The  greatest  satire  must 
be  true.  It  need  not  be,  and  it  hardly  can  be,  accurate 
in  detail ;  but  it  must  be  the  result  of  a  profound  con- 
viction resting  on  a  solid  basis  of  reality.  And  Buchanan's 
satire  was  true.  Sincerity  is  written  in  every  line  of  the 
Palinodia  and  the  Franciscanus.  Their  author  sees  in 
the  monks  an  embodied  iniquity  which  cannot  be  re- 
formed and  must  be  destroyed.  The  hopelessness  of 
reformation  within  the  Church  struck  other  observers 
besides  Buchanan.  Lindsay  felt  it ;  and  those  who 
attacked  religious  abuses  in  a  more  regular  way  were 
soon  driven  in  despair  to  give  up  all  thought  of  com- 
promise. It  is  not  necessary  at  present  to  consider 
whether  this  view  was  right  or  no :  it  was  the  view 
generally  taken  at  the  time,  and  it  accounts  for  much 
bitterness  in  word  and  subsequently  in  act.  No  doubt 
the  opinions  of  the  reformers  and  satirists  were  partial 
and  prejudiced.  There  was  a  better  side  to  monastic 
life     which    finds     no     recognition     in     them ;     and    the 


6o  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

enormities  they  paint  were  not  universal.  But  the 
satirist's  business  is  not  to  depict  the  good  as  well  as 
the  evil  of  his  victim :  he  is  justified  if  he  bases  his 
strictures  on  a  broad  foundation  of  guilt.  Such  a 
foundation  Juvenal  had,  and  on  it  he  builds  up  the 
fabric  of  an  utterly  corrupt  society.  Buchanan  from 
similar  materials  creates  the  image  of  a  corrupt  church, 
and  we  recognise  in  it  also  the  features  of  truth. 

Though  the  voice  of  tradition  has  pronounced  in 
favour  of  the  version  of  the  Psalms,  there  ought  to  be 
little  hesitation  now  in  assigning  the  foremost  place 
among  Buchanan's  works  to  the  satires  on  the  Church ; 
and  of  these  the  greatest  is  the  Palinodia.  Notwithstanding 
wide  differences  it  courts  comparison  with  the  religious 
satires  of  Burns.  There  is  the  same  merciless  logic 
probing  all  the  weak  places  of  the  faith,  the  same  scorn 
of  hypocrisy  and  determination  to  uphold  the  truth. 
Burns  is  superior  to  Buchanan  in  that  poetic  grace  of 
mind  which  allows  him  to  pause  in  his  satire  and  enjoy 
the  beauties  of  a  "  simmer  Sunday  morn  " ;  but  he  is  not 
more  than  equal  in  force  and  point,  and  he  is  hardly  equal 
in  conciseness  and  rapidity.  Both  poets  suffered  in  their 
several  ways  for  their  championship  of  truth,  but  both 
remained  unanswered  and  unanswerable. 

In  the  Palinodia  ^  Buchanan  writes  with  bitter  scorn, 
all  the  more  effective  for  the  thin  veil  under  which  it  is 
covered.      A   style   always   keen    and    incisive,    sometimes 

^  I  speak  of  the  Palinodia  as  one  poem,  and  it  is  one  in  plan  though 
printed  in  two  parts  in  Buchanan's  collected  works.  The  first  part 
relates  the  manner  in  which  he  was  brought  to  see  the  error  of  his  ways, 
and  the  second  contains  the  recantation  proper. 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  6l 

noble  and  eloquent,  drives  the  truth  home.  He  lays  bare 
the  sins  of  the  monks  one  by  one  until  it  seems  as  if  the 
whole  Franciscan  order  was  one  mass  of  corruption.  The 
effect  would  be  almost  nauseating  were  it  not  relieved  by 
the  plan  of  the  poem  and  by  the  irony  under  which  the  true 
meaning  is  veiled.  The  design  bears  a  general  resemblance 
to  Seneca's  satire  on  the  deification  of  Claudius,  or,  to 
given  an  English  example,  to  Byron's  Vision  of  Jitdgment, 
which  is  founded  upon  Seneca.  The  poet  is  borne  in 
dream  above  the  golden  stars  and  is  dragged  before  the 
tribunal  of  a  stern  judge  with  shaven  head  and  angry 
threatening  look.  All  around  are  girt  with  one  girdle 
and  clad  in  one  colour,  the  colour  of  asses  and  wild 
geese  and  flint.  The  judge,  who  is  habited  like  the 
rest,  asks  sternly  how  he  dares  mock  the  order  which 
awes  both  King  and  Pope,  and  bids  his  attendants  strip 
the  culprit  and  make  his  limbs  pay  the  penalty  for  his 
tongue.  An  unmeasured  punishment  produces  the  desired 
effect.  When  the  offender  gets  a  moment  to  breathe  he 
cries  for  mercy,  praying  that  the  order  may  flourish  ever 
holier,  and  always  find  old  wives  in  plenty  to  believe. 
He  will  retract  everything  and  praise  the  name  of  the 
brethren  to  the  skies.  Here  begins  an  extraordinary  series 
of  double  meanings  which  must  have  been  in  Buchanan's 
mind  when  he  wrote  that  the  piece  was  too  ambiguous  to 
please  the  King  : — 

"  Vobis  relligio  est,  sincero  ascuescere  recto, 
Relligio  est,  Christi  facta  fidemque  sequi  : 

Raraque  simplicitas,  et  rara  modestia  vobis, 
Et  virtus  rara  est,  et  probitatis  honos : 

Fastus  inauditus,  nullaque  libidine  victum 
Robur,  nee  duro  fracta  labore  manus." 


62  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

But   he  was  too   much    in    earnest   to  leave  his   meaning 

doubtful ;  and  even  if  any  one  was  obtuse  enough  to  miss 

the  significance  of  these  lines,  the  scathing  ridicule  of  the 

conclusion   is   unmistakable.     Under    a    thin    disguise    of 

admiration  he  exposes  the  self-indulgence  and  pride,  the 

falsehood   and   lust  of  the  monks.     Theirs  is  the  life  of 

calm  repose  undisturbed  by  the  calls  of  duty.     They  reap 

what  others  sow,  leaving  to  the  labourers  the  danger  and 

the  pain.     Their  vow  of  poverty  never  stops  their  way  to 

luxury  and  wealth.     They  make  capital  out  of  their  worst 

passions,  and  win  through  them  the  reputation  of  exceeding 

piety   among   the    simple,    though    the    clear-sighted    may 

laugh  or  grieve  or  gaze  and  be  silent,  each  according  to 

his  nature. 

The  Fraticiscaniis  is  by  far  the  longest  of  Buchanan's 

satires,    and    is    in   merit   second    only    to   the   inimitable 

Palinodia.     In   some  respects    it    is   even  superior.     It   is 

more  restrained ;  and   though    the    plan  hardly  admits  of 

the  display  of  such  varied  powers,  it  gives  an  opportunity 

for    a    more    systematic    treatment   of    the   vices   of    the 

Franciscans.      The    poem    opens   with    a    short   dialogue 

between  a  youth  who  is  eager  to  renounce  the  world  and  a 

more  experienced   friend  who  warns  him  that  he  will  not 

find  all  as  he  expects  in  the  cloisters.     In  an  interesting 

passage  this    friend,  probably  Buchanan  himself,  tells  the 

would-be  devotee  how  he  had    been    in   boyhood   seized 

with  a  similar  desire  and  had  been  saved  by  wise  advice,^ 

'  If  this  can  be  taken  as  autobiographical  it  throws  some  light  on 
Buchanan's  early  career.  It  has  been  asserted  that  he  was  himself 
at  one  time  a  monk  ;  but  of  this  there  is  no  sufficient  evidence,  and 
the  probability  is  that  he  had  only  thought  of  the  Church  as  a  profes- 
sion. 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  63 

which  he  repeats  by  way  of  warnuig.  The  men  who  don 
the  cowl  are  not  miracles  of  learning,  but  the  destitute,  the 
criminal,  the  lazy,  the  licentious,  who  hope  to  conceal  their 
vices  under  the  cloak  of  religion.  They  gather  wealth  by 
terrifying  the  dying  into  leaving  their  property  to  the 
monastery.  Men  wonder  that  the  ancients  could  believe 
the  fable  of  Cadmus  and  the  dragon's  teeth,  yet  they 
themselves  believe  that  the  contemptible  mannikin,  who 
but  now  hardly  knew  his  letters  and  whom  they  would 
not  have  trusted  to  clean  a  stable,  under  the  cowl  becomes 
in  a  moment  a  marvel  of  wisdom  and  learning  and  honour. 
The  secret  is  that  he  walks  with  slow  step,  bent  head, 
eyes  on  the  ground.  He  affects  paleness,  represses  laughter 
when  anyone  is  near,  squeezes  tears  from  dry  eyes  in 
praying,  has  a  solemn  formula  for  everything.  In  short, 
he  is  hypocrisy  incarnate.  When  the  rudiments  are 
mastered,  some  old  shaveling,  blear-eyed,  toothless,  palsied, 
and  wrinkled  teaches  the  mysteries — how  to  wring  the 
most  from  every  class,  from  the  rich  matron  and  mer- 
chant down  to  the  penniless  maid-servant ;  how  to  enjoy 
pleasures  without  dread  of  consequences ;  how  to  v/ork  the 
confessional  for  personal  ends ;  how  to  sway  the  minds 
of  men  by  the  dread  of  punishment  and  the  hope  of 
reward.  And  so  on  in  great  detail.  There  are  over  nine 
hundred  lines  in  the  Franciscaniis^  and  there  is  a  sting 
in  every  line.  The  old  monk  instructing  his  younger 
brethren  is  drawn  with  a  masterly  hand.  Acute,  cynical, 
utterly  devoid  of  conscience,  he  estimates  calmly  every 
means  by  which  he  and  they  can  increase  their  pleasures. 
The  dogmas  of  the  Church  are  to  him  so  many  instruments 
whereby  he  may  gain  his  ends ;  and  they  are  nothing  more. 


64  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

The  question  is  simply  how  to  indulge  passion  with  safety. 
He  will  run  no  risks,  for  he  can  secure  his  end  without 
risk.  Some  of  the  lighter  touches  are  delicious.  The  aged 
monk  going  into  the  country  is  advised  to  get  astride  of 
an  ass  or  mule,  as  the  precepts  of  St.  Francis  forbid  riding 
on  horseback.  We  see  the  scholar's  scorn  peeping  out  in 
the  passage  where  the  old  hypocrite  shows  how  a  little 
learning  may  be  made  to  go  a  long  way.  x\n  appearance 
of  learning  is  necessary,  yet  the  thorny  paths  of 
Aristotle's  rules  are  too  painful  to  tread.  Nor  is  it 
necessary  to  do  so.  A  few  sentences  of  Cicero,  a  few 
lines  of  Virgil,  or  half  an  ode  of  Horace,  used  with  discre- 
tion, will  suffice.  One  genius  built  a  reputation  upon 
fifteen  Latin  words.  No  one  need  trouble  himself  about 
a  barbarism  or  a  chance  solecism  :  it  would  be  shameful 
if  sacred  mysteries  must  bow  the  neck  to  the  halter  of  the 
grammarian. 

It  would  have  been  strange  if  after  so  happy  a  beginning 
Buchanan  had  let  his  highest  powers  sleep  for  ever.  He 
did  not.  To  prove  that  he  exercised  in  conversation  the 
qualities  which  he  could  use  so  well  in  literature  we  have 
the  fact  that  it  was  his  sarcastic  humour  on  which  his 
countrymen  seized  as  the  salient  feature  of  his  character; 
and  we  have  a  number  of  minor  satires  not  yet  noticed  and 
three  books  of  epigrams  (partly,  but  certainly  not  wholly, 
composed  before  this  date)  to  show  that  he  did  not  lay 
aside  the  satiric  pen.  But  the  very  force  of  the  earlier 
satires  was  hostile  to  his  subsequent  success  in  that  form  of 
composition.  They  caused  his  banishment,  and  banish- 
ment cut  him  off  from  those  strong  and  wide  social  interests 
without  which  work  of  the  kind  could  scarcely  be  continued. 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  65 

For  more  than  twenty  years  he  was  a  stranger  in  strange 
lands,  the  centre  perhaps  of  small  academic  societies,  but 
scarcely  reached  by  the  mightier  waves  of  life.  Perhaps, 
too,  the  fact  of  his  writing  in  Latin  helped  to  conceal  from 
him  where  his  true  powers  lay.  It  seems  in  his  case  and 
in  many  others  to  have  induced  a  habit  of  attempting 
everything,  which  was  often  fatal  to  high  excellence. 
However  this  may  be,  he  never  again  rose  so  high  in 
satire,  and  he  showed  no  disposition  to  recognise  this  as 
his  special  province.  In  one  remarkable  instance  in  his 
old  days  he  returned  to  it ;  and  it  is  noticeable  that  on  that 
occasion  he  departed  from  his  usual  practice  in  two  im- 
portant particulars  :  he  used  Scotch  instead  of  Latin  and 
prose  instead  of  verse. 

The  minor  Latin  satires  contained  in  the  Fratres  Frater- 
rimi  seem  to  have  been  composed  partly  during  Buchanan's 
exile,  partly  after  his  return  to  Scotland.  They  are  marked 
by  his  characteristic  pungency;  but  the  comparative  trivi- 
ality of  the  subjects  cuts  off  much  of  the  interest  which 
attaches  to  the  great  satires  on  the  Franciscan  order,  and 
through  it  the  Church.  For  the  most  part  they  simply 
traverse  again  the  ground  that  had  been  gone  over  in  these. 
The  cleverest  among  them,  that  entitled  In  Antotiiuvi 
Tomartum  Abbafe??i,  is  a  wonderful  display  of  wit.  It  is  a 
series  of  antitheses  between  the  life  of  Christ  and  the  life 
of  the  Abbot.  They  are  almost  the  same,  yet  wide  as  the 
poles  asunder.  In  this  piece  we  have  a  taste  of  the 
qualities  which  mark  the  epigrams.  It  might  have  been 
predicted  that  Buchanan  would  succeed  in  this  species  of 
composition ;  for  he  had  the  penetrating  wit  and,  when  he 
chose,    the   nervous,   concise   style   necessary   to   it.      His 


66  SCO  TTISH  LITERA  TURK. 

epigrams  were  highly  esteemed  in  the  author's  own  day, 

and  long  after  it;  and  he  was  considered,  not  unjustly,  one 

of  the  few  masters  of  the  art — a  high  compliment  in  view  of 

the  number  who  have  attempted  it  and  failed.     Perhaps 

the   best  known   among   his   epigrams   is   one  said   to   be 

borrowed  from  an  obscure  Latin  writer  : — 

Frustra  ego  te  laudo,  frustra  me,  Zoile,  laedis  : 
Nemo  mihi  credit,  Zoile,  nemo  tibi. 

During  the  long  exile  thus  occasioned  Buchanan's  career 
was  a  chequered  one.  He  seems  to  have  gone  first  to 
Paris ;  but  the  presence  there  of  Cardinal  Beaton  caused 
him  to  flee  farther.  Before  he  again  returned  to  Scotland 
he  taught  successively  at  Bordeaux,  Paris,  and  Coimbra, 
and  was  tutor  to  the  son  of  the  Comte  de  Brissac.  From 
1539  to  1542  or  1543  he  worked  in  the  College  de  Guyenne 
under  the  principalship  of  his  old  colleague  at  Ste.  Barbe, 
Andre  de  Gouvea.  For  the  next  few  years  all  that  is 
known  of  his  life  is  that  for  some  time  he  taught  in  the 
Colle'ge  du  Cardinal  Lemoine.  In  1547  he  proceeded  to 
Portugal  with  Gouve'a,  who  had  been  summoned  thither 
by  the  king,  John  III.,  to  superintend  the  College  of  Arts 
of  the  University  of  Coimbra.  There  Buchanan  spent  five 
troubled  years.  The  perilous  fame  of  the  satires  followed 
him.  Gouve'a  died  within  the  first  year,  his  college  passed 
under  the  dominion  of  the  Jesuits,  and  Buchanan  was 
harassed  with  charges  of  heresy  and  vague  offences  against 
the  Church.  In  the  end  he  was  confined  for  four  months 
in  a  monastery — to  be  taught  by  the  monks.  There  he 
began  his  paraphrase  of  the  Psalms,  which,  however,  was 
not  finished  till  some  years  later,  and  not  published  till 
after  his  return  to  Scotland. 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  67 

Buchanan  shook  from  his  feet  the  dust  of  Portugal  in 
1552.  The  Cretan  ship  in  which  he  had  taken  passage 
landed  him  in  England ;  but,  after  what  must  have  been 
a  very  brief  stay,  he  returned  once  more  to  Paris.  There 
he  lived  for  about  two  years.  In  1555  he  was  engaged  by 
the  Comte  de  Brissac  as  tutor  to  his  son,  Timoleon  du 
Cossd.  He  held  this  office  for  five  years,  moving  about 
from  France  to  Italy  as  the  military  duties  of  the  Marshal 
demanded.  During  this  period  he  tells  us  that  he  gave 
most  of  his  time  to  the  study  of  theology,  in  order  that  he 
might  be  able  to  form  opinions  on  the  questions  which  then 
filled  the  minds  of  men.  He  returned  to  Scotland  at  a  date 
not  exactly  ascertained,  but  certainly  not  later  than  the 
beginning  of  1562. 

In  the  course  of  those  two-and-twenty  years  Buchanan 
had  laid  a  broad  foundation  for  his  scholarly  fame.  Most 
of  his  poetry  belongs  to  this  period.  The  four  tragedies 
were  written  at  Bordeaux — the  translations  into  Latin  of 
the  Medea  and  Alcestis  of  Euripides,  and  the  Jephthes 
and  Baptistes,  original  compositions.  It  is  impossible  to 
say  much  in  praise  of  them  as  tragedies  :  though  he  is 
in  some  respects  happy  in  the  Jephthes,  Buchanan  appears 
to  have  been  deficient  in  dramatic  power;  and  he  com- 
posed his  dramas  mainly  as  exercises  for  the  benefit  of 
the  students  of  his  college.  They  contain  however  abund- 
ance of  vigorous  argument  and  not  a  little  of  graceful 
fancy.  The  style  is  clear  and  strong,  but  betrays  too 
great  a  fondness  for  antithesis.  The  choice  of  subject 
in  the  case  of  the  Baptisies  is  notable.  In  the  bold 
and  manly  dedication  to  James  VI.,  written  long  after 
the   play   itself,   the   author   proclaims   his    wish    that   the 


68  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

King  may  learn  from  it  the  fate  of  tyrants ;  and  beyond 
doubt  the  desire  to  lielp  the  cause  of  liberty  was  one 
of  Buchanan's  motives  in  writing  it. 

To  the  period  of  the  exile  belong  also  the  greater 
part  of  the  elegies  and  of  the  miscellaneous  collection 
entitled  Silvae,  many  of  the  epigrams,  and  other  oc- 
casional verses.  These  are  written  in  a  style  whose 
most  striking  quality  is  force,  but  which  is  also  at  times 
singularly  graceful  and  beautiful.  They  are  less  original 
than  the  satires,  and  there  is  a  greater  proportion  of  in- 
ferior work.  Yet  after  all  deductions  have  been  made 
there  remain  a  number  of  poems  of  genuine  beauty. 
The  first  of  the  elegies,  which  describes  the  author's 
miseries  as  a  teacher  at  Paris,  has  the  ring  of  true  feeling. 
The  piece  which  follows  it,  Maiae  Calendae  is  also  fine, 
but  is  surpassed  by  another  set  of  verses  among  the 
Miscellanies  on  the  same  subject.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  exquisite  tributes  in  poetry  to  the  poets'  favourite 
season.  The  marriage  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  to  the 
Dauphin  offered  a  tempting  subject  to  Buchanan's  muse ; 
and  he  did  not  neglect  it.  The  Epithalamium  is  among 
the  finest  of  his  poems  ;  but  its  merit  is  not  of  the  kind 
characteristic  of  that  species  of  composition.  It  is  not 
until  we  come  to  the  noble  apostrophe  describing  the 
dowry  Mary  brought  with  her  that  the  poet  seems  to 
put  forth  his  full  powers.  Then  his  Scottish  patriotism 
bursts  forth  with  an  energy  which  commands  admiration, 
even  though  the  colours  in  which  he  paints  the  wealth 
of  his  country  may  excite  a  smile.  Not  until  Burns's 
Vision  and  Scott's  Lay  was  Scotland  again  sung  with 
such  fervour.     It  is  only  the  language  in  which  Buchanan 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  69 

writes  that  has  prevented  his  lines  from  being  as  well 
known  as  theirs.  Even  as  it  is  the  following  passage 
is  one  of  the  very  {t\v  in  his  poetry  that  is  not  quite 
forgotten.  It  exhibits  a  man  who  was  at  once  a  patriot 
and  a  poet  : — 

"  Ilia  pharetratis  est  propria  gloria  Scotis, 
Cingere  venatu  saltus,  superare  natando 
Flumina,  ferre  famem,  contemnere  frigora  et  aestus ; 
Nee  fossa  et  muris  patriam,  sed  Marte,  tueri, 
Et  spreta  incolumem  vita  defendere  famam  ; 
Polliciti  servare  fidem,  sanctumque  vereri 
Numen  amicitiae,  mores,  non  munus  amare. 
Artibus  his,  totiim  fremerent  cum  bella  per  orbem, 
Nullaque  non  leges  tellus  mutaret  avitas 
Externo  subjecta  jugo,  gens  una  vetustis 
Sedibus  antiqua  sub  libertate  resedit. 
Substitit  hie  Gothi  furor,  hie  gravis  impetus  haesit 
Saxonis,  hie  Cimber  superato  Saxone,  et  acri 
Perdomito  Neuster  Cimbro.     Si  volvere  priscos 
Non  piget  annales,  hie  et  victoria  fixit 
Praecipitem  Romana  gradum  ;  quern  non  gravis  Auster 
Reppulit,  incultis  non  squalens  Parthia  campis, 
Non  aestu  Meroe,  non  frigore  Rhenus  et  Albis 
Tardavit,   Latium  reniorata  est  Scotia  cursum." 

It  is  melancholy  to  reflect  that  a  mind  such  as  Buchanan's 
wasted  itself  upon  the  long  astronomical  poem  De  Sphaera. 
The  author  himself  considered  this  the  greatest  of  his 
poems.  It  was  begun  at  the  time  when  he  was  in  the 
household  of  de  Brissac,  but  never  finished.  Copernicus 
had  already  promulgated  his  system ;  but  Buchanan,  like 
the  great  majority  of  his  contemporaries,  held  by  the 
older  Ptolemaic  system.  The  sole  value  of  the  poem  lies 
in  passages  in  which  the  author  digresses  from  his  subject 
and  writes  with  his  characteristic  force  and  weight  on 
themes  less  foreign  to  modem  interest. 


70  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

But  by  far  the  most  famous  of  the  works  of  his  exile 
was  the  paraphrase  of  the  Psahns.  It  is,  indeed,  that  on 
which  his  reputation,  among  those  who  have  not  read 
him,  chiefly  rests  to  the  present  day.  We  may  take  the  very 
general  agreement  among  scholars  at  that  time  and  since 
as  a  proof  of  its  eminent  merits  compared  with  rival 
versions.  But  the  task  Buchanan  had  set  himself  was 
long ;  and  although  it  is  certain,  notwithstanding  Hallam's 
judgment  to  the  contrary,  that  he  spent  much  time  over 
it  and  laboriously  revised  many  of  his  versions,  there  are 
here  and  there  evidences  that  he  flagged  at  the  work. 
His  great  defect  is  that  he  loses  the  characteristic  beauty 
of  the  original,  its  terse  strength  and  directness.  Gener- 
ally the  paraphrase  is  greatly  expanded,  and  the  process 
of  expansion  is  weakening.  But  it  is  in  the  freer  render- 
ings that  he  is  best.  His  mind  was  steeped  far  more 
deeply  in  the  classical  than  in  the  Hebraic  spirit,  and, 
as  a  rule,  there  is  most  poetry  in  the  paraphrase  where 
there  is  least  of  the  singer  of  Israel.  It  is  seldom  that 
Buchanan  fails  to  use  his  classical  learning  with  discre- 
tion ;  though  at  least  one  glaring  instance  could  be 
quoted,  where  he  borrows  the  words  of  his  favourite 
Horace,  but  hopelessly  loses  the  curiosa  felicitas.  On  the 
whole,  the  great  version  of  the  Psalms,  laboriously  written  in 
twenty-nine  metres,  received  with  acclamation  by  the  scholars 
of  the  day,  and  since  traditional  for  its  excellence,  must  be 
pronounced  a  comparative  failure.  There  is  nothing  in  it 
to  raise  its  author  conspicuously  above  contemporary  Latin 
versifiers.  Unless  a  little  genuine  poetry  embodied  in  a 
great  mass  of  skilful  versification  is  sufiicient  foundation 
for  a  reputation,  Buchanan's  has  no  sure  basis  here. 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  7 1 

Buchanan's  return  to  Scotland  brought  him  once  more 
into  contact  with  a  national  life,  and  its  influence  is 
reflected  almost  immediately  in  his  works.  There  is  more 
of  reality,  a  larger  share  of  the  soul  and  spirit  of  a  man 
in  them,  than  the  works  of  the  exile  possess.  Nothing 
could  demonstrate  better  the  weight  which  is  given  by  a 
multitude  to  a  man's  works.  Scotchmen  have  always 
entertained  a  strong  prejudice  against  the  '  landlouper,' 
and  the  history  of  their  numerous  countrymen  who  were 
driven  abroad  to  indulge  their  taste  for  letters,  proves 
that  there  is  ground  for  the  prejudice.  Clever  enough, 
many  of  them,  to  rise  to  high  positions  in  foreign  seats 
of  learning,  and  discharging  their  duties  there  for  the 
most  part  competently,  sometimes  with  high  distinction, 
it  was  nevertheless  only  those  who  did  some  part  of  their 
work  in  their  own  country  who  produced  any  permanent 
effect.  Had  Knox  remained  all  his  life  a  pastor  at 
Geneva,  he  would  probably  have  distinguished  himself  as 
a  disciple  of  Calvin,  but  he  would  have  been  of  second- 
rate  importance ;  Buchanan,  but  for  his  work  in  Scotland, 
would  have  ranked  as  a  dilettante  Latinist ;  and  Andrew 
Melville  might  have  been  named  with   Henry  Scrimger. 

After  Buchanan's  return  we  lose  the  guidance  of  the 
autobiography ;  but  as  his  life  was  now  of  a  more  public 
character,  its  main  events  can  be  easily  traced.  He 
hastened  to  profess  the  reformed  faith,  now  the  religion 
of  the  country.  He  had  not  till  this  time  formally  dis- 
owned the  Church  of  Rome;  but  he  had  always  been 
alive  to  its  abuses ;  and  his  theological  studies  in  the 
years  when  he  was  with  de  Brissac  had  deepened  his 
sympathy   with   the   doctrines    of    the    Reformers.     From 


7  2  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

this  time  forth  he  took  a  prominent  position  in  the  Kirk. 
Notwithstanding  this,  he  acted  for  a  while  as  Mary's  tutor 
in  Latin,  and  seems  at  first  not  only  to  have  entertained 
a  high  respect  for  her,  but  to  have  won  her  regard.  He 
showed  his  admiration  in  various  poetical  tributes,  especi- 
ally in  those  beautiful  lines  in  which  he  dedicated  to  her 
his  paraphrase  of  the  Psalms;  while  she  in  return 
bestowed  upon  him,  first,  a  pension  of  250  pounds  Scots, 
and  afterwards,  in  1564,  one  of  double  that  amount,  to  be 
paid  to  him  from  the  lands  of  the  Abbey  of  Crossraguel. 
He  had  much  difficulty  however  in  securing  payment. 
But  Buchanan  never  identified  himself  with  the  Queen's 
party.  In  the  very  year  in  which  he  received  this  grant, 
he  dedicated  his  Franciscanus  to  the  Earl  of  Murray; 
and  two  years  later,  through  Murray's  influence,  he  was 
appointed  Principal  of  St.  Leonard's  College,  St.  Andrews. 
This  appointment  removed  him  from  Edinburgh  during 
some  of  the  most  eventful  years  of  Scottish  history. 

But  the  calm  of  St.  Andrews  was  of  short  duration,  and 
after  it  ended  the  tone  of  Buchanan's  life  entirely  changed. 
Up  to  that  time  he  had  appeared  as  a  scholar  and  poet : 
in  his  remaining  years  he  was  a  politician  and  controversial- 
ist. The  events  which  brought  about  the  change  marched 
rapidly.  Mary's  marriage  with  Darnley,  the  assassination 
of  Rizzio  and  the  murder  of  Darnley,  the  Bothwell  episode, 
the  imprisonment  in  Lochleven,  the  escape,  the  battle  of 
Langside,  and  finally  the  flight  into  England,  succeeded 
one  another  with  breathless  rapidity.  This  mighty  current 
drew  all  the  talent  of  the  country  within  it.  Buchanan's 
powers  were  too  commanding  to  escape  notice,  and  his 
temper  did  not  incline  him  to  shrink  from  playing  his  part. 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  73 

He  followed  in  the  train  of  Murray  when  he  appeared  with 
his  colleagues  before  the  commissioners  appointed  by  Eliza- 
beth to  inquire  into  the  case  of  Mary.  This  is  a  crucial 
fact  in  Buchanan's  history.  Murray  was  already  recognised 
as  his  patron ;  but  Mary  too  had  bestowed  favours  upon 
him,  and  he  had  written  of  her  in  terms  of  warm  admiration. 
Yet  the  charges  of  insincerity  and  ingratitude  may  be  dis- 
missed. The  favours  of  Mary  had  been  received  and  the 
encomiums  written  before  the  murder  of  Darnley  and  the 
marriage  with  Bothwell,  and  these  events  were  sufficiently 
important  to  justify  a  change  of  front.  At  the  same  time 
Buchanan  cannot  be  acquitted  of  excessive  and  indecent 
virulence  in  his  attacks  upon  Mary.  He  was  a  man  of 
violent  passions,  who,  having  once  adopted  an  opinion, 
never  hesitated  to  express  it  in  the  strongest  terms  and 
to  support  it  by  strong  means.  In  the  Defectio,  to  be 
noticed  presently,  he  represented  Mary  as  leading  an  openly 
vicious  life  during  1566;  yet  one  of  his  own  odes  is  in 
honour  of  the  baptism  of  her  son  at  the  end  of  that  year. 
But  a  blacker  charge  has  been  brought  against  him.  The 
weightiest  evidence  adduced  against  Mary  was  contained 
in  the  celebrated  Casket  Letters ;  and  Buchanan  has  been 
accused  of  forging  them.  The  question  of  their  authenticity 
is  one  which  cannot  be  discussed  here  :  it  is  enough  to 
remark  that  there  is  no  scrap  of  evidence  against  Buchanan  ; 
and  a  charge  or  hypothesis  based  on  the  mere  belief  that 
he  possessed  the  necessary  intellectual  capacity  is  one  which 
comes  with  peculiar  grace  from  those  who  demand  legal 
proof  of  Mary's  guilt.  Though  however  the  disgrace  of  the 
Casket  Letters,  if  there  be  disgrace  to  anyone  but  Mary, 
cannot  be  thrown  upon  the  character  of  Buchanan,  he  did 


74  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

play  an  important  part  in  tlie  controversy.  It  was  by  him 
that  the  case  of  the  Regent  and  his  party  was  laid  before  the 
world  in  the  Detectio  Mariae  Reginae  Scotorum,  a  splendidly 
forcible  composition,  marred  by  acrimony,  by  unmeasured 
invective,  and  by  disregard  of  probability  in  the  charges 
preferred.  Even  more  interesting  than  the  original  Latin 
is  the  Scotch  translation  published  soon  after  and  ascribed 
to  Buchanan  himself.  It  is  strong,  terse,  and  precise. 
Buchanan's  scholarship  directs  his  taste  and  regulates  his 
style  without  obtruding  itself  in  the  offensive  way  in  which 
the  learning  of  early  writers  is  apt  to  be  brought  to  the 
front. 

As  the  authorship  of  this  translation  is  doubtful  it  would 
be  unsafe  to  found  upon  it  any  conclusions  as  to  Buchanan's 
style  in  Scotch  prose.  He  has  however  left  one  or  two 
unquestioned  specimens,  the  great  resemblance  of  which  to 
this  is  the  chief  reason  for  thinking,  in  spite  of  difficulties, 
that  it  may  have  been  by  him.  One  of  these  is  an 
appeal  called  forth  by  the  troubles  following  the  death  of 
the  Regent  Murray,  entitled  A7ie  Admoniiioiin  direct  to  the 
irerv  Lord  is  inantenaris  of  the  Kingis  Graces  Authoritie. 
Of  more  literary  interest  is  the  prose  satire,  Chamaeleon, 
which  is  directed  against  William  Maitland  of  Lethington, 
the  subtlest  of  all  the  politicians  of  the  time,  a  match  for 
Buchanan  himself  in  keenness  of  intellect  and  caustic  wit, 
and  a  great  man  in  all  but  stability  of  purpose  and  weight 
of  character.  Chamacieon  exhibits  to  the  full  the  close 
reasoning  and  nervous  energy  characteristic  of  the  author's 
style,  and  proves  his  mastery  of  his  native  language.  The 
language  is  Scotch  of  the  purest  type,  not  the  Anglicised 
Scotch  of  Knox ;  and  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  suppress  a 


1 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  75 

regret  that  the  man  who  could  write  thus  in  his  own  tongue 
did  not  more  frequently  employ  it.  As  a  satire,  however, 
Chamaeleon  is  only  moderately  successful.  The  disguise  is 
worn  too  carelessly  :  it  serves  only  to  spare  Buchanan  the 
necessity  of  naming  Lethington  in  connection  with  the 
astounding  series  of  tergiversations  with  which  he  charges 
him.  There  is  not  sufficient  mystery  to  admit  of  delicate 
innuendo  or  of  those  hints  which  derive  their  piquancy 
from  the  fact  that  they  are  not  broad  statements.  Cha- 
maeleon might,  with  very  slight  alterations,  serve  as  an  in- 
dictment against  Lethington  for  his  conduct  during  the 
whole  course  of  his  public  life,  and  especially  towards  the 
Regent  Murray. 

After  his  return  from  England  Buchanan  again  filled 
for  a  short  time  his  old  position  at  St.  Andrews ;  but  in 
1570  he  was  removed  thence  to  take  charge  of  the  edu- 
cation of  the  King,  then  only  four  years  old.  His  colleague 
in  this  office  was  Peter  Young.  They  were  men  very 
unlike  in  character.  Young,  according  to  contemporary 
testimony,  was  an  efficient  teacher  indeed,  but  shrewd  in 
his  own  interest,  and  careful  not  to  cross  a  pupil  so 
powerful ;  Buchanan  was  stern,  unbending,  heedless  of 
everything  but  the  way  to  train  the  mind  and  discipline 
the  character  of  James.  There  is  still  extant  an  amusing 
story  of  his  laying  his  hand  upon  "  the  Lord's  anointed  " 
and  replying  to  courtly  remonstrance  with  grim  humour. 
He  certainly  was  a  strict  disciplinarian — perhaps  too 
strict.  More  than  once  in  his  works  he  addresses  the 
King  with  blunt  freedom,  and  James  to  the  end  of  his 
life  remembered  him  with  awe.  The  result  of  his  train- 
ing could  not  be  entirely  satisfactory   to    Buchanan  ;    but 


76  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

it    is    to    be    remembered    that    if  he   did  not  succeed  in 
making  James  a  man  he  at  least  made  him  a  scholar. 

Meantime  Buchanan  did  not  forget  the  public  affairs 
in  which  he  had  taken  part;  and  in  1579  the  result 
of  his  meditations  upon  them  was  given  to  the  world 
in  the  shape  of  a  dialogue,  De  Jure  Regni  apud  Scoios, 
written,  as  he  states  in  the  dedication,  "  ante  annos 
complures."  It  is  the  best  of  Buchanan's  prose  works. 
From  the  introductory  questions  it  appears  that  the 
object  of  the  work  was  to  justify  to  foreign  nations 
the  proceedings  of  the  Scots  against  Mary.  The  inter- 
locutors are  the  author  and  Thomas  Maitland.  Buchanan 
institutes  no  elaborate  investigation  into  the  constitutional 
law  of  Scotland,  such  as  might  be  expected  from  the 
title  ;  but  taking  for  his  models  the  dialogues  of  antiquity 
he  proceeds  on  philosophical  principles  to  determine  the 
relations  of  king  and  people.  The  leading  positions 
maintained  afe  that  monarchy  has  its  origin  in  a  com- 
pact between  sovereign  and  subjects;  that  to  protect 
themselves  the  people  impose  laws  upon  the  king;  and 
that  if  he  transgresses  those  laws  he  is  liable  to 
punishment. 

It  would  be  superfluous  at  the  present  day  to  seek  to 
prove  that  the  idea  of  such  a  contract  is  a  mere  fiction  : 
it  is  more  to  the  purpose  to  note  the  nature  of  the 
doctrines  based  upon  it,  and  the  rights  the  author 
assigns  to  the  king  as  ruler  of  the  people  and  to  the 
people  against  the  king.  His  idea  of  monarchy  is  a 
noble  one,  drawn  not  from  the  servile  sentiments  current 
in  Europe  in  his  day,  but  from  the  philosophy  of  Greece 
and    the    law    of    Rome.      In    his   view    mere  unbridled 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  7? 

power  is  the  mark  not  of  a  king  but  of  a  tyrant,  and 
royal  dignity  consists  not  in  tlie  exercise  of  such  a  power, 
but  in  the  abihty  and  the  will  to  rule  for  the  sake  of  the 
people.  As  Buchanan  beautifully  expresses  it,  kings  should 
be  like  the  heavenly  bodies,  which,  though  we  can  do 
nothing  to  earn  their  favours,  pour  their  light  and  heat 
upon  us.  Recognising  such  an  ideal  of  kingly  excellence 
as  this,  he  finds  within  the  bounds  of  law  ample  scope 
for  the  exercise  of  royal  powers  ;  and  those  bounds  must 
not  be  crossed.  He  is  very  absolute  on  the  point  that 
the  king  exists  for  the  people,  not  the  people  for  the 
king.  His  zeal  leads  him  so  far  as  to  maintain  the  doc- 
trine of  killing  no  murder  in  the  case  of  tyrants,  whom 
he  speaks  of  as  wolves  to  be  hunted  down  without 
mercy  and  by  every  means  available.  No  one  is  now 
concerned  to  defend  such  extreme  views  or  to  enquire 
whether  an  ordinary  judge  in  an  ordinary  court  has  power 
to  pronounce  the  doom  of  his  sovereign.  Notwith- 
standing these  defects,  the  dialogue  as  a  whole  is  a 
wonderful  specimen  of  acute,  powerful,  and  unshrink- 
ing reasoning.  One  whose  mind  is  filled  with  the  history 
of  England  rather  than  that  of  Scotland,  who  remembers 
how  rapidly  the  doctrine  of  divine  right  grew  and  spread 
there,  how  tenaciously  it  kept  the  ground,  and  what 
firmness  and  courage  and  skill  were  required  in  the 
battle  against  it — such  a  one  may  be  disposed  to  ex- 
aggerate the  merit  of  Buchanan.  In  Scotland  opposition 
to  the  sovereign  was  familiar,  and  monarchy  was  at  the 
moment  represented  by  a  boy  of  thirteen.  Yet,  after  all 
allowances  have  been  made,  it  was  no  small  matter  in 
that  age  to  see  so  clearly  and  to  advocate   so  powerfully 


78  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

the  rights  of  the  people  against  the  king.  The  country 
recognised  the  significance  of  the  work.  It  was  answered 
and  answered  again  by  the  friends  of  royalty,  and  awoke 
a  controversy  which  was  louder  and  more  bitter  a  hun- 
dred years  after  Buchanan's  death  than  when  his  dialogue 
was  fresh.  For  the  theatre  had  widened.  Scotland  had 
been  united  to  England,  and  divine  right  and  opposition 
to  divine  right  had  acquired  a  meaning  identical  in  the 
two  countries.  In  the  long  battle  with  the  Stuarts 
Buchanan's  doctrines  exercised  a  strong  influence.  The 
English  Royalists,  conscious  of  the  weight  of  his  arguments, 
would  gladly  have  suppressed  the  work  which  contained 
them.  It  had  been  already  condemned  in  Scotland; 
and  neither  in  his  native  country  nor  afterwards  on  the 
throne  of  England  did  James  forgive  his  old  tutor. 
Finally  in  1683  the  political  writings  of  Buchanan  had 
the  honour  to  be  burnt  at  Oxford  along  with  those  of 
Milton.  But  the  controversy  can  hardly  be  said  to  have 
come  to  an  end  till  Locke  in  his  political  pamphlets 
finally  demolished  the  case  of  the  Royalists. 

The  dialogue  was  regarded  by  Buchanan  in  the  light 
of  a  mere  Trdpepyov.  He  was  not  only  busy  with  public 
business,  as  keeper  of  the  Privy  Seal  and  as  member 
of  the  commission  appointed  to  inquire  into  the  affairs 
of  St.  Andrews  University,  but  he  had  besides  on  hand 
by  far  the  most  bulky  of  all  his  writings,  the  Latin 
History  of  Scotland.  He  laboured  at  it  till  the  close  of  his 
life.  James  Melville  in  his  diary  narrates  that  when  it  was 
in  the  press  the  author's  friends  urged  him  to  stop  the 
printing  for  fear  of  the  King's  anger.  Buchanan  simply 
asked  his  advisers  whether  what  he  had  written  was  true, 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  79 

and  on  their  replying  that  they  believed  it  was,  "  Then," 
said  he,  "I  will  abide  his  feud  and  all  his  kin's."  His 
death,  28th  Sept.  1582,  occurred  so  soon  after  the  publica- 
tion that  there  was  little  time  to  proceed  against  him. 

The  History  was  the  work  upon  which  Buchanan  him- 
self set  most  store ;  but  the  judgment  of  time  has  not 
confirmed  his  preference.  It  is  not  to  a  very  great 
extent  an  original  authority,  and  its  merits  as  a  piece 
of  composition  are  not  in  themselves  sufficient  to  recom- 
mend it.  For  the  early  period  it  is  clear  that  Buchanan 
made  no  attempt  at  an  exhaustive  study  of  documents, 
and  he  betrays  a  credulity  which  is  surprising  in  so  keen 
a  mind.  The  blemishes  in  that  part  of  the  History 
which  deals  with  the  writer's  own  time  are  equally  con- 
spicuous and  more  important.  He  is  too  evidently 
a  partisan ;  and  as  an  authority  he  is  largely  super- 
seded by  Knox,  who,  though  a  partisan  also,  had  a 
deeper  personal  knowledge  of  affairs  and  wrote  more 
earnestly.  In  its  own  day  however  the  History  was 
an  important  work.  It  appealed  to  and  was  read  by 
the  scholars  of  the  Continent ;  and  thus  the  main 
facts  of  Scottish  history  became  widely  known,  and  in 
particular  the  meaning  and  justification  of  the  recent 
proceedings  against  the  Queen  percolated  through  yet 
another  channel  into  the  mind  of  Europe. 

In  the  Memoirs  of  Sir  James  Melville  of  Halhill  there 
is  a  sketch  of  Buchanan  which  may  be  quoted  as  the 
most  interesting  contemporary  picture  of  him  : — "  Mester 
George  was  a  stoik  philosopher,  and  loked  not  far  before 
the  hand;  a  man  of  notable  qualities  for  his  learning 
and  knawledge  in  Latin   poesie,  mekle  maid  accompt  of 


8o  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

in  other  contrees,  plaisant  in  company,  rehersing  at  all 
occasions  moralities  schort  and  fecfull,  wherof  he  had 
aboundance,  and  invented  wher  he  wanted.  He  was 
also  of  gud  religion  for  a  poet,  hot  he  was  easely  abused, 
and  sa  facill  that  he  wes  led  with  any  company  that  he 
hanted  for  the  tyme,  quhilk  maid  him  factious  in  his 
auld  dayes ;  for  he  spak  and  wret  as  they  that  wer 
about  him  for  the  tym  infourmed  him.  For  he  was  be- 
com  sleperie  and  cairles,  and  followed  in  many  thingis 
the  vulgair  oppinion,  for  he  was  naturally  populaire, 
and  extrem  vengeable  against  any  man  that  had  offendit 
him,  quhilk  was  his  gretest  fait."  ^ 

The  weaknesses  here  spoken  of  are  not  all  such  as 
we  should  be  inclined  to  ascribe  to  Buchanan ;  but  the 
portrait  was  drawn  when,  as  Melville  intimates,  age  and 
infirmity  had  unstrung  his  mind  and  soured  his  temper ; 
and  it  should  be  noticed  that  the  worst  charges  against 
Buchanan  are  unsupported  by  a  politician  who  was 
certainly  not  inclined  to  take  an  unduly  favourable  view 
of  his  public  career.  In  truth  those  charges  run 
counter  to  everything  we  know  of  the  character  of  the 
man.  He  may  be  safely  acquitted  of  all  the  blacker 
vices.  His  faults  were  those  which  spring  from  a  hot, 
impulsive,  uncontrolled  temper.  The  evidence  upon 
which  Buchanan's  personal  character  is  impugned  is 
almost  entirely  a  priori.  With  reference  to  his  public 
life  we  need  something  more  than  the  conjecture  that 
he  might  have  forged  the  Casket  Letters ;  and  for  his 
private  life  it  is  not  enough  to  point  to  some  gross 
lines  in  poems  written  in  an  age  when  all  were  gross. 
'  Maitland   Club  ed.,   p.   262. 


GEORGE  BUCHANAN.  8 1 

The  impression  he  leaves  as  a  man  is  that  of  one 
with  a  full  allowance  of  human  weaknesses,  but  free 
from  and  superior  to  all  meanness.  Among  scholars  he 
is  eminent  for  the  freedom  and  flexibility  of  his  mind. 
Most  pure  scholars,  not  in  Buchanan's  day  alone  but  in  all 
ages,  have  acquired  something  of  the  musty  flavour  of 
the  books  among  which  their  lives  were  passed.  Buchanan, 
with  a  few  others,  was  saved  by  native  greatness  of  mind 
from  this  misfortune.  His  pages  are  almost  always  fresh, 
conspicuously  so  when  the  subject  is  such  as  to  bring 
his  mind  into  direct  contact  with  the  great  movement  of 
his  age.  The  pulse  of  human  passion  and  human 
sympathy  still  beats  through  his  works.  The  most 
astonishing  feature  about  hmi,  that  which  stamps  him 
as  unmistakably  great,  is  that  though  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  of  the  most  artificial  class  of  men  of  letters 
the  world  has  ever  seen,  he  is  not  himself  artificial.  It  is 
this  too  which  causes  the  keenest  pang  of  regret  when 
we  consider  the  language  he  chose  for  his  writings,  and 
how  hopelessly,  notwithstanding  the  splendour  of  his 
gifts,  this  cuts  him  off  from  his  due  share  of  influence 
on  the  national  literature.  Lindsay,  a  pygmy  by  com- 
parison, is  now  a  more  conspicuous  figure  than  he.  And 
the  regret  iS  all  the  deeper  because  it  is  certain,  from  the 
few  vernacular  writings  he  has  left,  that  Buchanan  was  a 
master  of  his  native  Scotch  as  well  as  of  Latin.  No 
writer  of  prose  among  his  contemporaries  or  predecessors 
equals  him ;  not  Knox  himself,  fascinating  as  his  History 
of  the  Reformation  is.  Buchanan  is  part  of  the  sacrifice 
which  the  Renaissance  demanded.  The  scholarship  which 
it  fostered,  so  fruitful   in   many  respects,   so  profound  in 


82  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

its  influence  upon  our  modern  civilisation,  produced  at 
one  point  a  false  idea  as  to  the  claims  and  capabilities 
of  the  "  vulgar  tongues  "  and  of  the  common  life.  To 
this  Buchanan  fell  a  victim ;  and  through  this  his  rich 
endowments  of  mind  and  heart  were  half  lost  to  his 
country. 


CHAPTER     III. 

THE  SCOTTISH   REFORMATION. 

JOHN  KNOX. 

An  attempt  has  been  made  in  the  previous  chapters  to  show- 
that  hterature,  as  represented  by  Lindsay  and  Buchanan, 
performed  important  services  to  the  cause  of  reformation  in 
reHgion.  It  is  desirable  to  learn  something  of  the  nature 
of  the  reformation  v^^hich  they  furthered ;  and  to  show  how, 
in  the  works  of  its  greatest  advocate,  it  requited  the  help 
lent  by  literature.  For  though,  unfortunately,  the  influence 
of  the  Scottish  Reformation  was  in  the  end  deeply 
prejudicial  to  art  in  all  forms,  its  great  leader,  Knox,  was 
not  only  the  reformer  of  a  kingdom,  but  the  author  of  one 
of  the  most  memorable  books  that  kingdom  has  ever  given 
to  the  world,  a  book  which  ought  to  take  a  high  place  even 
in  the  rich  literature  which  the  sixteenth  century  added  to 
the  English  tongue. 

John  Knox  was  born  at  Gifford  Gate,  Haddington,  in 
1505.  He  received  all  the  education  his  country  could 
give  him,  first  at  the  grammar  school  of  Haddington,  and 
afterwards  at  Glasgow  University;  but  he  did  not  obtain 
that  last  and  highest  polish  from  a  Continental  seat  of 
learning  which  was  needed  for  the  making  of  a  scholar,  and 
in  after  years  he  was  forced  painfully  to  make  good  the 


84  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

defect.     That  he  to  a  certain  extent  did  so  in  the  midst  of 
all  the  distractions  of  a  busy  and  active  life  is  one  of  the 
proofs  of  that  thoroughness  which  stands  out  among  his 
most  prominent  qualities.      At  Glasgow,  whither  he  went 
in   1522,  Kno.x  came  under  the  influence  of  Major,  from 
whom    he   learnt    the   philosophy   of    the    time,    and   also 
imbibed  certain  ideas  calculated  to  raise  doubts  as  to  the 
absolute  wisdom  of  the  established   order  of  things.     He 
never  took  his  degree ;  and  the  statement  that  after  leaving 
Glasgow  he  taught  as  regent  at  St.  Andrews  is  very  question- 
able.   As  yet  Knox  had  no  quarrel  with  the  Romish  Church. 
He   became   one  of   the    "Pope's    Knights"    "before   he 
reached  the  age  fixed  by  the  canons  of  the  Church,"  ^  says 
M'Cne— a  statement  which  requires  a  good  deal  of  proof. 
If  it  is  correct  he  must  have  been  ordained  before  1530. 
The  new  opinions  were  spreading ;  the  teaching  of  Major 
was  doubtless  fermenting  in  Knox's  own  mind  ;  and   the 
twelve  obscure  years  which  followed  his  admission  into  the 
Catholic   Church    must    have   been    years   of    doubt   and 
mental  conflict.     It  was  characteristic  of  the  man  that  he 
would  not  accept  his  faith  at  second  hand.     The  study  of 
the  early  fathers  disposed  him  to  lay  unusual  stress  on  the 
Scriptures,  and  it  was  only  after  he  believed  that  he  had 
found  in  the  Bible  a  warrant  for  the  doctrines  of  the  Refor- 
mers that  he  joined  the  party  which  professed  those  doc- 
trines. Some  time  later,  in  1 544,  he  fell  under  the  influence  of 
Wishart,  and  played  a  dramatic  part  in  attendance  upon  him 
immediately  before  his  arrest.     He  carried  the  two-handed 
sword  which  was  usually  borne  before  Wishart. 

The  story  of  Wishart  is  in  outline  at  least  well  known. 
'  Life,  I.  12,  fifth  edition. 


JOHN  KNOX.  85 

After  he  had  been  for  a  considerable  time  the  leading 
spirit  in  a  movement  which,  though  it  could  not  yet  be 
called  widely  popular,  ^  was  surely  gaining  ground,  the 
Church  thought  it  necessary  to  silence  him.  He  was 
seized,  carried  to  St.  Andrews,  tried,  and  burned  to  death 
on  the  2nd  March,  1546.  Before  two  months  were  over 
Cardinal  Beaton  himself,  the  leader  in  these  proceedings, 
for  years  the  chief  of  Scottish  Churchmen,  and  in  his  last 
days  the  most  powerful  person  in  the  land,  fell  by  the  hand 
of  assassins  in  his  own  castle  of  St.  Andrews.  There  is 
no  doubt  as  to  the  name  of  the  act  by  which  he  fell.  It 
was  an  assassination  boldly  and  skilfully,  but  also  merci- 
lessly carried  out.  But  its  moral  character  has  been  very 
variously  represented.  There  has  been  a  tendency  among 
enthusiasts  for  the  Reformation  to  gloss  it  over  and  look 
upon  the  murderers  as  instruments  of  divine  vengeance. 
Catholic  writers,  on  the  other  hand,  have  exhausted  their 
vocabulary  in  condemnation  of  it ;  and  even  the  later 
Presbyterians  have  seen  that  some  concession  must  be 
made  to  this  view.  The  violence  which  is  murder  and 
therefore  sin  in  opponents,  does  not  become  sacrifice  and 
therefore  virtue  in  the  sight  of  Heaven  when  practised 
by  associates.  The  most  that  can  be  urged  for  the  act  is 
that  it  partook  of  the  nature  of  tyrannicide,  and  has  what- 
ever justification  can  be  pleaded  for  deeds  of  that  kind. 
But  a  further  question  arises  as  to  the  motives  of  the 
assassins.  They  have  been  regarded  by  most  Scotchmen 
as  men  who,  if  they  erred,  erred  from  a  pure  enthusiasm 

^  Knox's  account  of  Wishart's  visit  to  Haddington  helps  to  prove  this. 
There  was  no  stirring  of  the  people,  and  no  adequate  explanation  of 
their  quietness  can  be  offered  except  that  they  did  not  much  care. 


86  SCOTTJSH  LITERATURE. 

for  the  truth.  There  is  however  proof  that  they  were  not 
all  single-minded.  Some  were  in  the  pay  of  England ;  and 
the  murder  was  a  stroke  dealt  with  the  knowledge  and  con- 
nivance of  the  English  authorities,  quite  as  much  on  poli- 
tical as  on  religious  grounds.  Worst  of  all,  the  name  of 
Wishart  is  sullied  with  the  odium  of  these  transactions  with 
Henry  VIII.  A  person  called  Wishart  was  the  bearer  of 
the  letter  to  Henry  containing  the  proposition  of  Norman 
Lesley  and  the  others.  It  may  have  been  another  Wishart, 
but  no  other  Wishart  is  known  who  was  at  that  time  stirring 
in  political  or  religious  matters.  It  is  true  that  the  story 
is  inconsistent  with  all  our  ideas  of  Wishart  and  with  all 
contemporary  pictures  of  him  ;  but  stains  of  this  sort  are  all 
too  common  on  religious  zealots,  and  it  would  be  unsafe 
to  say  even  of  the  gentlest  and  best  of  them  that  in  all 
circumstances  they  would  be  incapable  of  joining  in  such 
intrigues. 

It  was  after  the  martyrdom  of  Wishart  and  the  murder  of 
Beaton  that  Knox  began  to  rise  into  prominence.  He 
had  no  part  in  the  murder ;  but  there  cannot  be  a  doubt 
in  any  unprejudiced  mind  that  he  approved  of  it.  This 
is  denied  by  those  followers  of  little  faith  who  dare  not 
believe  that  Knox  can  afford  to  have  his  character  painted 
truthfully,  like  Cromwell's  face,  with  all  its  furrows  and 
wrinkles ;  but  the  more  masculine  among  his  panegyrists 
admit  it,  and  the  fact  is  plain  from  the  narrative  as  it  stands 
in  Knox's  History  of  the  Reformation.  Apart  altogether 
from  the  famous  marginal  note,  "  the  godly  fact  and  woordis 
of  James  Melven,"  the  whole  tone  is  one  of  commendation  ; 
and  at  the  end,  after  mentioning  the  "  salting,"  etc.,  he 
adds,    "  these  things  we  write  mearelie,"  a  phrase  which 


JOHN  KNOX.  S7 

always  indicates  that  Knox  takes  pleasure  in  the  story  he 
is  telling.  After  the  assassination  he  joined  the  party  of 
the  conspirators  in  the  Castle  of  St.  Andrews,  endured  the 
siege  with  them,  and  with  them  passed,  on  the  surrender 
in  Jul}',  1547,  into  the  French  galleys.  During  the  siege 
there  occurred  one  of  the  most  interesting,  and  in  his  own 
estimation  one  of  the  most  important  events  in  Knox's  life, 
his  public  call  to  preach  the  Gospel.  It  came  from  the 
mouth  of  John  Rough,  preacher  to  the  garrison,  who  in 
the  name  of  God  and  the  listening  congregation  summoned 
him  to  "  take  the  public  office  and  charge  of  preaching." 
Knox  was  overcome,  burst  into  tears,  rushed  out,  and  shut 
himself  up  for  solitary  thought.  But  though  the  feeling  of 
responsibility  was  unaffected,  the  office  was  too  congenial 
to  be  declined.  Knox  was  from  that  day  a  preacher,  and 
soon  the  most  powerful  and  effective  preacher  in  Scotland. 
He  himself  with  pardonable  satisfaction  quotes  the  com- 
ments on  his  first  sermon  :  "  Some  said,  '  Otheris  sned  the 
branches  of  the  Papistrie,  but  he  stryckis  at  the  roote,  to 
destroye  the  hole.'" ^ 

From  the  time  of  the  surrender  of  St.  Andrews  to 
February,  1549,  Knox  was  a  prisoner  in  the  galleys.  On 
obtaining  release  (through  what  means  is  unknown)  he  re- 
turned to  England,  and  was  soon  installed  as  preacher  at 
Berwick,  where  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Marjory  Bowes, 
who  afterwards  became  his  wife.  About  two  years  later  he 
was  removed  to  Newcastle.  It  is  evident  that  during  his 
ministry  in  the  north  of  England  he  proved  to  many  an  un- 
comfortable neighbour.  To  please  Tunstall  and  the  clergy 
he  was  called  before  the  Council  of  the  North  (no  unfriendly 
^  History,  Wodrow  ed.,  I.  192. 


f^  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

audience)  to  defend  his  doctrine  that  the  mass  is  idola- 
trous ;  and  he  started  to  do  it  with  an  unimpeachable  syllo- 
gism in  Barbara.  The  Duke  of  Northumberland  too,  for 
reasons  of  his  own,  desired  the  removal  of  the  uncom- 
promising preacher.  Perhaps  Knox's  habit  of  handling 
public  questions  freely  in  the  pulpit  had  more  to  do  with 
this  desire  than  the  reasons  assigned  for  it,  namely,  his  per- 
sistent neglect  of  Edward  VI.'s  first  Prayer- Book,  and  the 
congregation  of  Scots  whom  he  drew  to  Newcastle  to  hear 
him.  It  is  easy  to  understand  that  the  man  who  publicly 
bewailed  the  fall  of  Somerset  must  have  been  far  from  ac- 
ceptable to  Northumberland.  But  in  spite  of  his  conflicts 
with  authority,  through  one  of  which  he  was  called  before  the 
Privy  Council,  the  government  of  Edward  remained  well 
disposed  to  Knox.  He  had  been  early  made  one  of  the 
royal  chaplains,  and  he  was  offered  more  than  one  prefer- 
ment in  the  Church,  the  most  important  being  the  bishopric 
of  Rochester ;  but  such  offers  he  steadily  declined  because 
he  was  not  sufficiently  in  accord  with  the  English  Church 
.  to  accept  a  permanent  charge  in  it.  Still,  Knox's  sojourn 
in  England  might  have  lasted  long  had  not  the  death  of 
Edward  changed  everything.  After  a  brief  interval  of  toler- 
ance he  found  himself,  early  in  1554,  obliged  to  leave  the 
country  and  the  wife  whom  he  had  recently  married.  Dur- 
ing his  stay  in  England  Knox  had  contrived  to  exercise 
considerable  influence,  not  only  over  the  congregations 
which  came  directly  into  contact  with  him,  but  also,  in 
various  points  of  ritual,  etc.,  on  the  Church  at  large.  Yet 
at  almost  fifty  years  of  age  he  remained  a  man  decidedly  of 
the  second  rank,  and  not  high  in  that. 

Knox   fled   to    Dieppe,    and   thence   addressed    to    the 


JOHN  KNOX.  89 

faithful  in  England  a  letter  remarkable  for  its  deeply 
earnest,  lofty,  and  inspiring  tone.  After  some  wanderings 
he  fixed  upon  Geneva  as  his  place  of  exile,  and  there 
began  that  friendship  with  Calvin  which  lasted  till  death. 
There  too  Knox  set  himself  to  fill  up  the  gaps  in  his 
education.  But  the  man  of  action  was  restless  and 
unsettled,  journeying  to  and  fro  to  Dieppe  for  news 
of  his  country,  and  returning  more  ill  at  ease  than 
ever;  for  the  prospects  of  the  Protestants  in  Scotland 
and  England  were  black  enough.  It  was  while  he 
was  in  this  unsettled  state  that  he  wrote  the  Admoni- 
tion to  the  Professors  of  God's  Truth  in  Engiafid, 
one  of  the  most  violent  compositions  he  ever  penned. 
It  was  dashed  off  in  a  white  heat  of  zeal  for  the  truth 
and  rage  against  the  persecutors.  But  the  zeal  and  the 
rage  outran  prudence.  Mary  might  be  all  he  called  her, 
but  it  was  unwise  to  denounce  a  woman  who  held  the 
destinies  of  England  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand  as  "  false, 
dissembling,  inconstant,  proud,  and  a  breaker  of  promyses, 
excepte  suche  promyses  as  she  made  to  your  God  the 
Pope."  Small  wonder  that  the  English  Protestants  referred 
part  of  their  subsequent  sufferings  to  this  "  outragious 
pamphlet  of  Knox's " ;  ^  but  it  is  certain  that  they  ex- 
aggerated its  effects  in  suggesting  that  it  was  the  cause 
of  the  Smithfield   burnings. 

This  pamphlet  speedily  brought  trouble  upon  the  head 
of  its  author.  The  persecutions  in  England  had  driven 
the  Protestants  abroad  in  such  numbers  that  those 
settled  at  Frankfort  proposed  and  obtained  leave  to  form 

^  So  called  in  the  letter  of  the  English  Congregation  at  Frankfort 
to  Calvin. 


90  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

themselves  into  a  separate  congregation.  Knox  was  called 
to  be  one  of  their  pastors,  and  somewhat  unwillingly  he  left 
his  studies  at  Geneva  to  accept  the  charge.  There  were 
difficulties  from  the  first  as  to  the  use  of  the  Prayer- 
Book ;  but  a  compromise  was  made,  and  matters  might 
have  gone  smoothly  but  for  the  unreasonable  violence 
of  some  newcomers,  who  insisted  upon  its  unqualified 
acceptance.  Knox  then  spoke  out  his  mind.  His 
opponents  resented  his  words,  and  went  so  far  as  to 
prefer  a  charge  of  high  treason  against  him  to  the  mag- 
istrates of  the  city.  The  charge  was  based  on  words  in 
the  Admo7iitio7i  directed  against  the  Emperor  and  Queen 
Mary.  The  magistrates  dared  not  disregard  it,  for 
there  was  in  Knox's  language  more  than  enough  to  offend 
the  delicate  susceptibilities  of  a  court;  and  they  did  the 
best  they  could  for  him  in  advising  him  to  leave  the 
city  quietly. 

After  a  short  stay  at  Geneva,  Knox  set  out  in  the 
autumn  of  1555  for  Scotland.  In  his  History'^  he  names 
himself  among  those  who  were  driven  by  Mary's  persecu- 
tions to  Scotland;  but  it  was  only  indirectly  that  affairs 
in  England  influenced  his  movement  thither.  The  visit 
lasted  only  a  few  months.  Arriving  "  in  the  end  of  the 
harvest,"  he  left  in  July  of  the  following  year  at  the  call 
of  the  English  congregation  of  Geneva.  But  though 
short,  this  sojourn  in  Scotland  was  not  unimportant. 
Knox's  influence  was  at  once  thrown  into  the  scale  of 
the  more  advanced  Reformers.  He  made  a  vigorous  on- 
slaught on  all  such  as  attempted  to  satisfy  their  conscience 
and  consult  their  safety  at  the  same  time ;  thundered  out 

1 1.  245. 


JOHN  KNOX.  91 

his  old  denunciations  of  the  mass  as  idolatry ;  and  in 
an  interesting  discussion  on  that  subject  encountered  for 
the  first  time  and  vanquished  the  keenest  intellect  then 
in  Scotland,  William  Maitland  of  Lethington.  The 
argument  on  which  the  temporisers  mainly  relied  was 
that  Paul  at  the  command  of  James  and  the  elders  passed 
to  the  Temple  to  pay  his  vows.  Knox's  answer  is 
characteristic.  He  argues,  first,  that  the  facts  are  unlike  : 
to  pay  vows  was  never  idolatry,  the  mass  is.  But 
secondly,  "  I  greatly  doubt  whitther  eyther  James's  com- 
mandiment  or  Paule's  obedience  proceaded  from  the 
Holy  Ghost."  Knox  has  been  often  accused,  and  accused 
with  some  truth,  of  arrogance ;  but  probably  he  never 
said  anything,  from  his  own  point  of  view,  more  arro- 
gant than  this.  What  would  the  Reformer,  whose  ultimate 
appeal  was  constantly  to  Scripture,  have  said  of  an 
opponent  who  ventured  to  cast  doubt  upon  an  instance 
drawn  by  him  from  that  source  ?  The  conclusion  of  the 
discussion  deserves  to  be  quoted.  "  I  see  perfytlye,"  says 
Maitland  as  reported  by  Knox,  "  that  our  schiftis  will 
serve  nothing  befoir  God,  seeing  that  they  stand  us  in  so 
small  stead  befoir  man."  ^  As  Mr.  Skelton  remarks,-  it 
would  be  interesting  to  hear  what  Lethington  for  his 
part  had  to  say.  But  Knox's  veracity  is  above  doubt, 
and  words  reported  on  his  own  direct  authority  may  be 
taken  to  have  been  actually  spoken.  It  is  possible,  even 
probable,  that  he  unintentionally  gave  to  discussions  of 
this  kind  a  colour  too  favourable  to  himself;  but  he  was 
too  proud,  too  great,  and  too  confident  in  the  righteous- 
ness of  his  cause — in  his  own  infallibility  his  detractors 
^  I.  248.  "^  Maiiland  of  Leihington,  I.  209. 


92  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

would  say — to  misrepresent  deliberately.  At  the  same 
time,  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  the  subtle-minded 
Lethington  was  so  easily  disposed  of.  Probably  the  words 
meant  to  him  something  other  than  they  meant  to  Knox — 
acquiescence,  not  conviction.  And  this  is  perhaps  the 
secret  of  Lethington's  constant  defeats.  He  did  not  dare, 
or  did  not  choose,  to  push  home  all  the  arguments  he 
was  master  of.  The  charges  of  atheism  which  were 
brought  against  him  may  have  been  untrue — probably 
he  did  not  concern  himself  much  with  the  question  of  the 
existence  of  God  ;  but  it  is  clear  that  his  religion  lay  on 
the  surface.  When,  therefore,  we  see  the  astute  and 
supple  courtier  and  diplomatist  silenced  by  an  appeal  to 
the  dealings  of  the  Lord  with  some  old  Jewish  prince  or 
patriarch,  we  look  deeper  for  an  explanation.  Lethington 
may  be  supposed  to  have  been  as  well  aware  as  any  of 
Knox's  later  critics  that  the  argument  from  a  far  distant 
age  and  a  dead  civilisation  to  the  present  is  deeply 
V  fallacious ;  but  in  that  age  and  place  it  would  not  have 
been  prudent  to  say  so ;  and  therefore  the  politician  held 
his  tongue. 

The  result  of  Knox's  work  at  this  time  may  be  summed 
up  in  a  few  words.  He  inspired  the  professors  of  the  new 
faith  with  fresh  hope  and  confidence,  made  compromise 
difficult,  and  drew  the  Protestants  together  on  terms  of 
mutual  confidence  and  a  common  understanding.  The 
priests,  naturally  disturbed,  summoned  him  to  Edinburgh, 
but  themselves  found  it  convenient  or  prudent  to  discover 
a  flaw  in  the  summons.  It  was  not  till  after  Knox  had  left 
Scotland  that  a  fresh  summons  was  issued,  sentence  passed, 
and  his  effigy  burnt.     To  wrestle  with  an  antagonist  was  the 


JOHN  KNOX.  93 

breath  of  Knox's  nostrils ;  and  in  the  vehemence  of  the 
Appellation  with  which  he  met  this  sentence  we  may  trace 
not  only  a  sense  of  the  injustice  of  the  procedure,  but  of 
more  intimate  personal  wrong  in  being  defrauded  of  the  fight. 
On  his  return  to  Geneva,  Knox  for  some  time  led  a  life 
of  quiet  study  and  pastoral  work  as  minister  of  the  English 
congregation  ;  but  his  eye  was  constantly  on  Scotland,  and 
he  already  regarded  himself,  and  was  regarded  by  others, 
as  a  father  of  the  Church  there.  Many  doubtful  ques- 
tions of  doctrine  and  life  were  referred  to  him,  and  his 
answers  show  a  caution,  prudence,  and  regard  for  the 
practicable  which  must  surprise  those  who  forget  that  he 
was  at  heart  a  statesman  as  well  as  a  reformer.  Once  pass 
the  line  which  he  conceived  to  divide  God's  truth  from 
devilish  error,  and  he  planted  his  foot  like  a  rock  and  set 
his  face  like  a  flint;  but  on  this  side  of  that  line  he  could 
and  did  give  and  take  like  a  man  of  the  world.  This 
correspondence  between  Knox  and  the  perplexed  pious 
souls  of  his  native  country  shows  that  he  never  dropped 
his  connexion  with  Scotland.  Accordingly,  when,  in  1557, 
a  letter  came  from  the  lords  of  the  reformed  faith  giving  a 
glowing  account  of  the  condition  and  prospects  of  their 
party  in  Scotland,  and  inviting  him  to  come  to  them,  he 
readily  assented.  At  Dieppe  however  he  received  news 
of  a  very  different  complexion.  After  waiting  some  time 
for  more  favourable  letters,  Knox,  disappointed  and  piqued, 
returned  to  Geneva.  He  afterwards  blamed  himself  for 
irresolution  on  this  occasion,  and  acknowledged  that  the 
discouraging  letters,  coming  as  they  did  from  individuals 
and  not  from  the  body  as  a  whole  which  had  invited  him, 
were  only  a  partial  excuse. 


94  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

In  the  last  period  of  his  residence  at  Geneva  he  was 
engaged  in  various  literary  undertakings.  He  assisted  in 
that  version  of  the  Bible  known  as  the  Geneva  Bible ;  he 
published  several  writings  of  his  own  ;  and,  above  all,  he 
blew  the  famous  First  Blast  of  the  Trumpet  against  the 
Monstruous  Regiment  of  Women — the  only  one  of  his 
publications  which  did  not  bear  his  name ;  and  even 
it  contains  a  promise  that  the  name  shall  be  revealed. 
The  point  is  a  small  one,  but  it  shows  a  trait  of  the 
man's  character.  There  was  nothing  he  ever  did  that 
he  feared  or  hesitated  to  avow.  Knox  took  a  final 
leave  of  Geneva  in  January,  1559.  He  had  been  again 
invited  by  the  Protestant  nobles,  and  this  time  they  were 
thoroughly  in  earnest.  He  was  annoyed,  however,  by  the 
refusal  of  the  English  Government  to  permit  his  passage  by 
land.  He  sailed  direct  to  Leith,  and  landed  there  on  the 
2nd  of  May.  Political  tempest  marks  his  arrival,  and  those 
who  look  upon  him  as  the  stormy  petrel  of  religion  impute 
it  directly  to  his  influence.  They  are  partly  right ;  for 
without  Knox  the  strife  might  have  been  less  violent,  and 
would  certainly  have  had  a  different  result.  But  his  coming 
coincides  with  a  moral  equinox.  The  powers  of  light  and 
darkness,  as  both  sides  would  have  agreed  in  calling  them, 
were  drawing  to  an  equality,  and  conflict  was  inevitable. 
Whatever  view  we  take  of  the  character  of  Mary  of  Guise, 
we  can  understand  the  distrust  with  which  the  Protestants 
regarded  her.  The  martyrdom  of  Walter  Mill  showed  how 
the  clerical  tide  was  setting.  It  roused  the  Protestants,  and 
they  were  too  formidable  to  be  a,ny  longer  either  calmly 
ignored  or  silently  crushed  by  the  hand  of  power.  Selfish 
greed  was  enlisted  on  their  side  as  well  as  disinterested 


JOHN  KNOX.  95 

zeal ;  for  the  possessions  of  the  Church  were  so  many  argu- 
ments to  the  needy  nobles  to  join  the  party  which  taught 
that  those  possessions  did  not  belong  to  the  Church  at  all. 
Motives  more  purely  political  were  woven  in  with  these. 
The  history  of  Scotland  is  a  story  of  continuous  struggle 
against  foreign  domination.  It  had  been  necessary  for 
centuries  to  play  off  France  against  England  \  but  now 
the  "auld  friend"  threatened  to  become  more  dangerous 
than  the  "auld  enemy."  The  height  to  which  French 
hopes  rose  under  Mary  of  Guise  is  almost  incredible.  The 
Frenchmen  in  Scotland  began  "  to  devyde  the  landis  and 
lordschippis  according  to  thair  awin  fantaseis ;  for  ane  was 
styleit  Monsieur  de  Ergyle ;  ane  uther,  Monsieur  le  Priour ; 
the  thrid,  Monsieur  de  Ruthven."  ^  This  division  between 
the  French  party  and  the  English  party  blended  with  the 
division  between  Protestant  and  Catholic ;  but  it  also  ex- 
tended and  deepened  that  division  by  adding  to  it  the 
lukewarm  Gallios,  careless  of  religion  but  absorbed  in 
politics. 

When  Knox  arrived  the  struggle  had  already  begun. 
The  leading  preachers  were  under  summons  to  appear  for 
trial  on  the  loth  of  the  month,  and  the  result  of  the  pro- 
ceedings was  a  sentence  of  outlawry  unfairly  obtained 
against  them.  Knox  too  was  outlawed  under  the  sentence 
passed  against  him  in  his  absence  after  his  former  visit; 
but,  undismayed,  he  uttered  those  exhortations  which  led  to 
the  sacking  of  the  Perth  monasteries  on  the  nth.  Though 
this  tumult  brought  the  country  to  the  verge  of  civil  war, 
the  quarrel  was  settled  before  it  came  to  that  extremity. 
Shortly  after,  at  Cupar  Moor,  hostile  forces  confronted  each 

1  Knox,  I.  397. 


96  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

other,  but  doubt  and  fear  on  both  sides  prevented  a  battle. 
The  Congregation  however,  as  the  Protestant  party  called 
themselves,  showed  how  much  in  earnest  they  were  and 
how  formidable  were  the  forces  they  wielded  by  seizing 
Perth,  Stirling,  and  finally  Edinburgh.  They  held  the 
capital  long  enough  to  set  up  the  Protestant  worship ; 
and  Knox  was  chosen  minister  of  St.  Giles  ;  but  when  his 
friends  were  obliged  to  retire  from  the  city,  though  they 
stipulated  that  the  form  of  worship  now  adopted  should  be 
left  undisturbed,  it  was  judged  prudent  that  Knox  should 
withdraw  and  the  less  objectionable  Willock  take  his  place. 
Instead  of  immediately  settling  in  any  one  town,  he  spent 
some  time  in  journeying  through  Scotland,  preaching  in  all 
the  principal  towns,  and  firing  the  people  v.'ith  his  own 
enthusiasm.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  in  this  way  his 
influence  was  greater  than  it  could  possibly  have  been 
had  he  remained  in  Edinburgh. 

But  Knox's  work  in  those  days  was  as  much  political  as 
ministerial.  It  was  rapidly  becoming  clear  that  the  appeal 
to  arms  was  inevitable — or  rather  that  the  arms  already 
taken  up  must  be  used  in  more  deadly  earnest.  The 
power  of  the  government  and  the  Catholic  party  was  bol- 
stered up  by  French  troops ;  and  the  Lords  of  the  Congre- 
gation turned  to  England  for  help.  Nothing  more  strikingly 
shows  the  ascendency  which  Knox  had  acquired  than  the 
fact  that,  unpalatable  as  he  was  to  the  English  Court,  it 
was  through  him  that  negotiations  were  conducted,  and 
that  Elizabeth  for  political  reasons  was  forced  to  treat 
with  him.  It  was  in  the  course  of  these  negotiations  that 
he,  apparently  for  the  first  and  only  time,  suggested  a 
crooked  course  of  policy  :  that  England,  to  avoid  a  breach 


JOHN  KNOX.  97 

with  France,  should  connive  at  English  volunteers  joining 
the  Protestant  party,  and  even  denounce  them  afterwards 
as  rebels.  With  difficulty  Elizabeth  was  induced  to  grant 
help ;  but  she  dealt  it  out  with  a  niggardly  hand,  and  the 
cause  of  the  Congregation  did  not  advance.  The  war  had 
resolved  itself  into  a  siege,  the  siege  of  Leith ;  and  the 
Scots  were  sorely  handicapped  by  their  want  of  skill 
while  contending  against  enemies  accustomed  to  Con- 
tinental modes  of  attack  and  defence.  They  were  repulsed 
and  forced  to  retreat  to  Stirling. 

The  image  of  the  trumpet,  applied  by  Knox  to  the 
famous  Blast,  is  appropriate  to  his  whole  style  of  oratory ; 
and  the  trumpet  never  sounded  a  clearer  and  fuller  note 
in  victory  than  it  did  now  to  hearten  a  defeated  and 
despairing  party.  He  pointed  out  the  sins  which  had 
brought  this  judgment  upon  their  heads,  laid  down  the 
conditions  of  future  success,  and  roused  them  once  more 
to  hope  and  action.  The  arrival  of  an  English  force  kept 
the  hope  alive;  and  though  their  troubles  were  by  no 
means  at  an  end  they  were  ultimately  successful.  A  treaty 
was  concluded  in  July,  1560,  under  which  the  French 
troops  were  to  leave  the  kingdom,  and  the  government 
was  to  be  vested  in  a  council  elected  partly  by  the  Estates, 
partly  by  Francis  and  Mary.  For  by  this  time  Mary  of 
Guise  was  dead.  In  the  previous  October  a  sentence  of 
suspension  had  been  passed  against  her  in  the  name  of 
"  the  nobility  and  commons  of  the  Protestants  of  the 
Church  of  Scotland."  She  would  not  readily  have  forgiven 
the  insult,  and  they  would  never  have  trusted  her ;  so  that 
her  death,  while  the  siege  of  Leith  was  in  progress,  removed 
one  formidable  obstacle  to  an  understanding. 


98  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

Soon  after  the  conclusion  of  this  treaty  the  Parliament 
on  the  petition  of  the  Protestant  barons  and  gentlemen, 
addressed  itself  to  the  reformation  of  religion.  A  Confession 
of  Faith  hastily  drawn  up  and  embodying  the  Protestant 
doctrines  was  presented,  and  on  August  17th  adopted; 
and  so  the  principles  of  the  Reformers  formally  triumphed. 
Only  three  temporal  lords  voted  against  the  Confession, 
and  the  bishops,  as  Knox  triumphantly  remarks,  "  spaek 
nothing."  This  helplessness  of  the  clergy  was  a  feature  of 
the  whole  struggle.  With  a  few  vigorous  exceptions  they 
did  nothing  for  their  own  cause ;  their  battle  was  fought  by 
others ;  and  this  is  one  proof  that  the  charges  of  ignorance 
and  incompetence  freely  brought  against  them  had  a  fairly 
firm  foundation  in  fact. 

The  overthrow  of  Catholicism  left  the  preachers  in  a 
commanding  position.  Their  leader  had  been  the  soul 
of  the  political  as  well  as  the  religious  movement  which 
issued  in  the  Reformation  ;  they  had  been  consulted  on 
the  most  important  occasions  of  state  as  persons  entitled 
to  a  deferential  hearing ;  they  had  been  thus  enabled  to 
give  a  remarkably  theocratic  complexion  to  the  govern- 
ment; and  it  seemed  as  if  for  the  future  each  minister 
was  to  hold  a  duplicate  of  the  keys  of  St.  Peter.  One  of 
the  jeers  of  Lethington  shows  that  already  the  yoke  was 
heavy  on  the  neck  of  the  laity:  "We  mon  now  forget  our 
selfifis  and  beir  the  barrow  to  buyld  the  housses  of  God."  ^ 

The  work  which  now  lay  before  the  Protestants  was 
constructive — the  further  definition  of  their  own  creed  and 
the  practical  establishment  of  a  new  ecclesiastical  system. 
The  earliest  great  contribution   to  this  work  was  what  is 

Knox,  II.  89. 


JOHN  KNOX.  99 

known  as  the  First  Book  of  Discipline.     It  was  the  joint 
production  of  Knox   and    four   other   ministers — Winram, 
Row,  Spottiswood,  and  Douglas.     The  weapon  they  forged 
for  the  new  Church  was  a  formidable  one.     Certain  limits 
were  indeed  set  to  her  power.     Crimes  which  the  civil  sword 
can  touch  were  regarded  as  falling  outside  the  jurisdiction 
of   the    Church.      But    a   general    inquisition  of   manners 
and  morals  may  be  made  an  instrument  of  the  severest 
tyranny;  and  in  the  existing  confusion  it  was  maintained 
that  even  the  wide  limits  of  ordinary  ecclesiastical  jurisdic- 
tion might  be  overstepped  and  the  graver  crimes  also  dealt 
with.     To  this  source  may  be  traced  those  arrogant  preten- 
sions  which    for    generations    the    Presbyterian    ministers 
maintained.     The  Book  of  Discipline  was  however  an  able 
work.     It  contained  in  particular  a  large  and  liberal  scheme 
of  education,  and  it  would  have  been  well  for  the  country 
if  the  financial  proposals  embodied  in  it  had  been  adopted. 
Their  substance  was  that  out  of  the  patrimony  of  the  old 
Church  provision  should  be  made  not  only  for  the  decent 
maintenance  of  the  ministry  of  the  reformed  faith,  but  for 
education  and  for  the  poor  as  well.     But  here  the  ministers 
came  into  conflict  with  their  most  powerful  supporters,  the 
Lords  of  the  Congregation,  and  discovered  that  they  were 
not  all  moved  by  pure  zeal  for  religion.     It  was  easy  to  get 
the  Lords  to  profess  the  faith  which  pleased  their  reverend 
brethren,    impossible    to    unclasp    their    grip    on    Church 
property. 

The  arrival  of  Mary  in  August,  1561,  introduced  a  new 
and  important  factor  into  politics.  About  the  years  which 
follow  almost  as  much  has  been  written  as  about  all  the 
rest  of  Scottish  history.     It  is  impossible  to  enter  into  the 


lOO  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

discussion  here,  and  equally  impossible  to  pass  it  over 
without  some  expression  of  opinion.  The  marvellous 
ingenuity  which  has  been  spent  in  justifying  Mary  has 
been  all  in  vain.  Even  if  it  could  be  proved  that  the 
Casket  Letters  were  forged  (and  it  seems  most  probable  that 
they  are  genuine),  the  general  course  of  events  is  almost 
conclusive  against  her.  Only  her  beauty,  sympathy  with 
her  tragic  end,  and  in  later  times  that  perverse  spirit  of 
paradox  which  has  found  excuses  even  for  Judas,  could 
have  blinded  the  able  men  who  have  undertaken  her 
defence.  But  it  is  significant  that  the  greatest  of  all 
those  who  from  temperament  and  predilection  might  have 
been  expected  to  champion  her,  gave  up  her  case  as  hope- 
less. Scott  cast  aside  the  thought  of  writing  a  life  of  Mary, 
"because  my  opinion,  in  point  of  fact,  is  contrary  both  to 
the  popular  feeling  and  to  my  own."i  'pj^ig  jg  not  evidence 
against  her;  but  the  admission  of  the  large,  manly,  sympa- 
thetic mind  is  more  striking  than  a  score  of  the  wire-drawn 
arguments  in  her  favour. 

It  was  not  long  before  Mary's  presence  re-opened  the 
question  of  the  mass.  If  the  zealots  had  had  their  will 
neither  queen  nor  subject  would  have  been  allowed  to  hear 
it.  Knox  speaks  with  no  uncertain  sound.  In  preaching 
he  asserted,  "  that  one  Messe  (thair  war  no  mo  suffered  at 
first)  was  more  fearful  to  him  than  gif  ten  thousand  armed 
enemyes  war  landed  in  any  pairte  of  the  Realme,  of  pur- 
pose to  suppresse  the  hoill  religioun  " ;  ^  and  of  the  more 
tolerant  he  says,  "thair  war  Protestants  found  that  es- 
chaimed  not  at  tables  and  other  open  places,  to  ask,  '  Why 
may  not  the  Queyn  have  hir  awin  Messe,  and  the  forme  of 
'  Lockhart,  VII.  147.  =  History,  II.  276. 


JOHN  KNOX.  1 01 

hir  religioun  ? ' "  More  moderate  counsels  than  his  pre- 
vailed, and  a  private  celebration  of  mass  was  permitted. 
No  one  will  now  defend  such  extremes  as  Knox  advocated ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  folly  to  import  modern  prin- 
ciples of  freedom  of  conscience  into  the  embittered  con- 
tests of  the  sixteenth  century ;  and  there  is  point  in  the  ques- 
tion suggested  by  M'Crie,  What  would  have  become  of  a 
Huguenot  Queen  set  to  rule  over  a  Roman  Catholic  king- 
dom ?  The  Scottish  Protestants  had  still  but  a  slippery 
foothold,  and  though  they  might  wisely  have  acted  with 
more  liberality,  they  could  not,  from  sheer  necessity  of  self- 
preservation,  be  perfectly  tolerant. 

Mary  had  unlimited  confidence  in  her  own  powers  of 
fascination.  She  determined  to  win  Knox  over  by  the 
force  of  her  personal  attractions.  The  Reformer  was 
sent  for,  and  the  result  was  the  first  of  the  famous  inter- 
views between  him  and  the  Queen  so  often  depicted 
with  pencil  and  with  pen.  The  sole  original  authority 
for  those  scenes  is  Knox  himself,  and  all  subsequent 
accounts  are  to  be  tested  by  reference  to  him.  Every 
one  is  familiar  with  the  picture  of  the  merciless  bigot 
brow-beating,  insulting,  trampling  upon  the  young  and 
beautiful  queen ;  but  it  is  grossly  unfair  to  the  great 
Protestant.  The  reader  must  inevitably  pity  Mary,  well- 
intentioned,  as  yet  innocent,  but  set  by  fate  among  in- 
tractable surroundings  and  foredoomed  to  failure.  But  pity 
for  Mary  ought  not  to  crush  out  justice  to  the  grander  figure 
of  Knox.  He  was  no  boor ;  he  was  simply  a  man  convinced 
that  he  had  found  the  truth  and  determined  not  to 
palter  with  it.  There  was  no  insult,  no  wanton  insolence. 
If  his  words  were  bitter,  the  bitterness  was  due  to  his  un- 


1 02  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

bending  integrity.  As  the  messenger  of  eternal  truth 
he  dared  not  for  his  own  soul's  sake,  and  for  hers,  and 
for  the  lasting  weal  of  his  country,  muffle  his  tones  or 
wrap  his  meaning  in  the  disguise  of  courtly  compliment. 
And  Mary  had  this  at  least  to  be  grateful  for,  that 
her  most  formidable  antagonist  freely  showed  his  hand. 
Knox's  attitude  towards  the  Queen  might  have  been 
more  conciliatory.  He  and  his  brethren  claimed  the 
right  to  meddle  with  affairs  of  State  and  the  domestic 
relations  of  Mary  in  a  way  which  must  have  seemed 
to  her,  as  it  seems  to  us,  intolerable.  But  there  is  no 
foundation  for  the  more  offensive  charges  of  wanton  in- 
sult and  brutality.  The  beauty  and  high  position  and 
even  the  subsequent  misfortunes  of  Mary  were  powerless 
to  make  evil  good,  and  the  soul  of  Knox's  offence  con- 
sisted in  his  refusal  to  disguise  his  convictions.  His 
position  was  hardly  less  difficult  than  that  of  the  Queen 
herself.  Nothing  but  superlative  genius  could  win  sym- 
pathy for  an  old,  stern,  cankered  man  in  a  controversy 
with  youth  and  rank  and  beauty.  Knox  would  have 
been  more  than  human  or  much  less  than  what  he  was 
if  he  had  been  able  to  escape  the  charge,  at  the  mildest, 
of  ungraciousness.  He  must  either  have  been  unfaithful 
to  what  he  considered  the  truth,  or  he  must  have  dis- 
played an  unexampled  power  of  making  the  truth  palat- 
able. Unfaithful  he  would  not  and  could  not  be.  The 
truth  in  question  was  not  his  but  God's.  It  was  God,  he 
fully  believed,  who  spoke  through  his  lips.  Charged  with 
such  duties  as  his,  he  had  no  choice  but  to  stand  before 
the  world  harsh,  unbending,  and  seemingly  though  not 
really  pitiless. 


JOHN  KNOX.  103 

Perhaps  the  most  instructive  of  all  the  scenes  between  the 
Reformer  and  the  Queen  is  that  which  occurred  after  his 
public  remarks,  in  the  year  1563,  on  the  question  of  her 
marriage.  The  meeting  was  a  stormy  one.  Knox  main- 
tained that  it  was  not  only  his  right  but  his  duty  to  speak  as 
he  had  spoken,  until  Mary  burst  into  angry  tears.  Then, 
standing  by,  he  addressed  her :  "  Madam,  in  Goddis  presence 
I  speak :  I  never  delyted  in  the  weaping  of  any  of 
Goddis  creatures ;  yea,  I  can  skarslie  weill  abyd  the 
tearis  of  my  awin  boyes  whome  my  awin  hand  correctis, 
much  less  can  I  rejoise  in  your  Majesties  weaping.  But 
seing  that  I  have  offered  unto  you  no  just  occasioun  to 
be  offended,  but  have  spocken  the  treuth,  as  my  voc- 
atioun  craves  of  me,  I  man  sustean  (albeit  unwillinglie) 
your  Majesties  tearis,  rather  than  I  dar  hurte  my  con- 
science, or  betray  my  Commonwealth  through  my 
silence."^  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  Mary,  bred 
in  the  French  court,  and  unable  to  grasp  the  limitations 
of  royal  authority  in  Scotland,  failed  to  understand  Knox. 
He  surprised  others  besides  the  Queen.  On  one  occasion, 
after  the  "second  commouning,"  "the  said  Johne  Knox 
departed  with  a  reasonable  meary  countenance  ;  whairat, 
some  Papistis  offended  said,  '  He  is  not  effrayed.'  Which 
heard  of  him  he  answered,  '  Why  should  the  pleasing 
face  of  a  gentill  woman  efTray  me?  I  have  looked  in 
the  faces  of  manie  angrie  men,  and  yitt  have  nott  been 
effrayed  above  measure.' "^ 

Knox  never  altered  the  judgment  which  he  records  of 
Mary  after  the  "  first  reasoning  "  : — "  Yf  thair  be  not  in  hir 
a  proud  mind,  a  crafty  will,  and  ane  indurat  hearte  against 
^History,  II.  389.  "^History,  II.  334. 


1 04  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

God  and  his  treuth,  my  judgment  faileth  me."^  This, 
which  he  states  in  the  History  as  the  tenor  of  his  conver- 
sation at  the  time,  is  confirmed  by  a  letter  to  Cecil,  dated 
7th  Oct.,  1561  :  "In  communication  with  her,  I  espyed 
such  craft  as  I  have  not  found  in  such  aige."  ^  Mary  on  her 
part  tried  against  him  in  vain  threats,  expostulation,  and  even 
a  charge  of  treason.  Knox  cared  not  for  the  threats ;  and 
from  the  charge  of  treason  he  escaped,  probably  because 
the  lay  lords,  however  they  might  disapprove  of  some  parts 
of  his  conduct,  knew  that  to  crush  him  meant  to  deliver 
themselves  into  the  hands  of  the  Catholics.  The  Queen's 
marvellous  powers  of  fascination  had  a  greater,  though  only 
a  passing  effect.  On  one  notable  occasion,  after  an  angry 
conversation  the  previous  day,  she  summoned  her  antago- 
nist, met  him  all  smiles  in  the  hunting  field,  and  sent  him 
delighted  away  with  a  commission  to  bring  about  a  recon- 
ciliation between  the  Earl  of  Argyll  and  his  wife.'^  But 
though  even  Knox's  armour  was  penetrable,  his  policy  was 
too  much  opposed  to  hers  to  permit  of  reconciliation.  She 
would  not  give  up  the  Catholics  :  he  would  not  abstain 
from  denouncing  them.  The  defection,  as  he  considered 
it,  of  the  Protestant  lords  in  favour  of  Mary  only  increased 
his  anger  and  strengthened  his  determination.  He  broke 
with  Murray,  and  for  nearly  two  years  there  were  three 
important  parties  in  the  State ;  the  extreme  and  moderate 
Protestants,  headed  respectively  by  Knox  and  Murray  ;  and 
the  Catholics,  led  by  Mary,  and   watching  for  an  oppor- 

'  History,  II.  286.  -  Quoted  by  M'Crie. 

'The  story  is  told  in  the  History,  II.  373  sqq.  Knox  there  sets  it 
down  avowedly  as  an  example  of  the  Queen's  dissimulation  ;  but  he 
was  evidently  pleased  in  spite  of  himself. 


JOHN  KNOX.  105 

tunity  to  profit  by  the  dissensions  of  their  opponents.  The 
Protestant  leaders  were  not  reconciled  until,  as  Knox  ex- 
presses it,  the  flame  was  quenched  by  the  waters  of  afflic- 
tion ;  and  by  that  time  it  was  evident  that  there  was  no 
room  in  the  country  for  a  moderate  party.  But  if  Knox 
thus  for  a  time  lost  one  important  alliance,  by  his  marriage 
in  March,  1564,  to  Margaret  Stewart,  daughter  of  Lord 
Ochiltree,  he  gained  another.  His  first  wife  had  died 
between  three  and  four  years  previously ;  and  this  second 
marriage  displeased  and  even  alarmed  his  enemies ;  for  the 
Stewarts  of  Ochiltree  were  related  to  the  royal  house ;  and 
the  opponents  of  Knox  did  not  know  how  far  the  ambition 
of  the  Reformer  might  lead  him.  Their  fears  are  the  source 
of  the  ridiculous  stories  current  at  the  time  that  he  had  used 
the  black  art,  which  was  supposed  to  be  the  only  means 
by  which  an  old  man  in  his  position  could  win  a  young  and 
high-born  woman. 

In  the  following  years  Knox's  hand  is  less  visible  in 
public  affairs  than  it  had  been.  There  was  less  for  him 
to  do  after  the  new  faith  had  been  formally  accepted. 
What  he  could  and  did  do  was  to  keep  a  vigilant  eye  on 
Mary's  intrigues,  and  to  rouse  the  people  by  his  eloquence 
whenever  anything  prejudicial  to  religion,  as  he  fancied,  was 
being  done.  The  freedom  with  which  he  spoke  his  mind 
with  reference  to  the  Queen's  marriage  has  been  already 
alluded  to.  The  fruits  of  the  alliance  with  Darnley  were 
much  what  Knox  had  anticipated ;  and  the  degree  to 
which  he  was  moved  and  disturbed  may  be  seen  in  the 
bitter  sarcasm  of  his  description  of  the  state  of  things  in 
religion  in  the  year  1566.^     The  events  which  followed  the 

^  History,  II.  266. 


I06  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

murder  of  Darnley  completely  changed  the  sky  of  Scottish 
politics.  The  regency  of  Murray  was  a  short  summer  of 
delight  to  the  Protestants.  The  preceding  troubles  had  led 
to  a  reconciliation  between  him  and  Knox,  and  the  terms  in 
which  the  Reformer  refers  to  the  Regent's  death  prove  how 
well  he  was  satisfied  with  his  government.  The  image  ot 
the  Lord  so  shines  in  Murray  that  the  devil  and  the  people 
to  whom  he  is  prince  cannot  abide  it. 

The  career  of  Knox  himself  was  drawing  to  a  close. 
Grief  for  the  loss  of  friends,  disappointment  at  the  over- 
clouding of  the  fair  promise  for  the  reformed  faith,  and 
the  effects  of  unremitting  toil  on  a  frame  never  robust, 
brought  on  a  stroke  of  apoplexy  in  October,  1570.  The 
report  ran  among  his  triumphant  enemies  that  the  great 
Reformer  was  dead.  They  were  mistaken  :  there  were  still 
two  years  of  life  before  him,  and  as  long  as  he  lived  he 
laboured  against  Popery. 

Those  two  years  were  probably  the  most  painful  of 
Knox's  life.  Murray's  strong  rule  had  promised  to  put  a 
stop  to  the  disorders  of  Scotland ;  but  during  the  regencies 
of  Lennox  and  Mar  they  all  revived.  The  power  of  the 
Queen's  party  grew.  The  defection  of  Kirkcaldy  of  Grange 
was  a  blow  to  Knox  personally,  for  he  loved  the  man ; 
and  besides,  it  put  the  castle  of  Edinburgh  in  the  hands  of 
his  enemies,  and  made  his  position  as  minister  of  St.  Giles 
one  of  great  discomfort  and  some  danger.  It  was  deemed 
prudent  that  he  should  leave  the  capital ;  and  accordingly 
he  retired  in  May,  157 1,  to  St.  Andrews.  His  peace  there 
was  disturbed  not  only  by  private  disputes  but  by  the 
setting  up  of  the  "  tulchan "  bishoprics,  which  he  was 
powerless  to  prevent.     The  hatred  of  his  enemies  followed 


JOHN  KNOX.  107 

him  in  his  retreat,  and  stories  were  circulated  that  he 
had  raised  saints  by  the  black  art,  and  that  there  had 
appeared  among  them  the  devil  with  horns.  In  August, 
1572,  Knox  returned  to  Edinburgh.  As  his  former  col- 
league, John  Craig,  had  been  removed  from  St.  Giles, 
and  as  Knox  was  physically  incapable  of  doing  the 
work,  James  Lawson  was  summoned  in  all  haste  from 
Aberdeen  to  take  the  place  of  Craig.  On  Sunday,  Nov. 
9th,  Knox  performed  his  last  public  duty  at  the  installation 
of  Lawson.  The  following  Tuesday  he  was  "  stricken  with 
a  grit  hoist,"  and  on  the  13th  he  desired  his  wife  to  pay 
his  servants'  fees,  saying  he  would  never  give  them  another 
fee.  On  Friday,  the  14th,  he  rose,  and,  though  scarce 
able  to  sit,  when  asked  what  he  would  do,  said,  "  he  would 
go  to  the  kirk  and  preich,  for  he  thocht  it  had  bene 
Sonday."  On  Monday,  the  17th,  the  congregation  came 
at  his  desire,  and  he  addressed  them,  and  was  considerably 
the  worse  for  the  exertion.  On  Friday  "he  commandit 
Richard  [Bannatyne]  to  gar  make  his  kist,  whairin  he  was 
borne  to  his  buriall."  He  lingered  on  till  Monday,  the 
24th,  uttering  from  time  to  time  exclamations  which  proved 
that  his  mind  was  constantly  running  on  the  scheme  of 
salvation,  even  when  his  attendants  imagined  him  to  be 
asleep.  The  end  came  on  the  evening  of  that  day,  his 
last  motion  being  a  gesture  of  assent  when  exhorted  to 
remember  the  promises  of  Christ.^ 

The  figure  of  Knox  in  the  world  of  letters  is  not  at  all 
proportionate  to  his  intrinsic  greatness.  He  was  a  man  of 
deeds,  not  of  words ;  and  his  greatest  work  consisted  in  the 
influence  he  exerted  in  moulding  the  character  and  history 

^  Bannatyne's  Memorials. 


1 08  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

of  his  countrymen.  Yet  his  collected  writings  (including  a 
number  of  letters  to  friends)  fill  six  large  volumes,  a  great 
portion  of  them  the  work  of  the  busy  years  when  he  was 
acting  as  leader  of  the  Scottish  Protestants.  All  these 
writings  bear  more  or  less  directly  on  the  absorbing 
question  of  religion,  for  in  that  question  the  whole  man 
Knox  was  immersed.  But  they  bear  upon  religion  in 
various  ways.  Some  are  practical  exhortations  to  the 
professors  of  the  reformed  faith  generally,  or  more  par- 
ticularly to  congregations  and  sections  of  the  Protestants 
with  whom  Knox  had  been  specially  connected.  Such  for 
example  are  the  "  admonitions  "  and  "  godly  letters  "  which 
he  from  time  to  time  addressed  to  the  faithful.  Others 
again  are  controversial  writings  dealing  with  points  of 
speculative  theology,  as  the  treatise  on  Predestination,  the 
Reasoning  with  Abbot  Kennedy,  and  the  answer  to  the 
Jesuit  Tyrie.  In  yet  another  class  must  be  placed  those 
treatises  which  have  a  political  cast,  chief  among  which  are 
the  Blast,  and  above  all  the  History  of  the  Reformation  in 
Scotland. 

The  writings  of  the  first  class  are  those  which  have  least 
literary  interest;  and  yet  they  were  those  in  which  their 
author  himself  felt  that  he  was  best  fulfilling  his  destiny. 
He  early  recognised  that  his  vocation  was  rather  to  stir 
men  to  action  by  preaching  and  by  direct  personal  appeal, 
than  to  convince  them  by  abstract  and  impersonal  argu- 
ment ;  and  the  addresses  and  epistles  were  committed  to 
paper  simply  because  distance  made  direct  intercourse 
impossible.  No  one  can  fail  to  recognise  the  earnest- 
ness and  sincerity  which  inspire  them.  To  Knox  the 
pastoral    office   was    one    not  to    be    lightly   taken   up    or 


JOHN  KNOX.  109 

laid  aside  :  the  congregation  to  which  he  had  once  minis- 
tered had,  he  felt,  a  claim  upon  him  while  life  lasted. 
In  his  declining  days  he  longed  to  return  to  his  former 
charge,  the  quiet  congregation  of  Geneva.  This  affec- 
tionate regard  for  those  among  whom  he  was  labouring 
or  had  laboured  is  one  of  the  most  lovable  traits  of  his 
character.  For  those  outside  the  fold  of  the  true  faith 
he  had  small  charity,  but  to  all  within  it  his  heart  was 
generously  open. 

The  theological  works  of  Knox  hold  a  peculiar  posi- 
tion— peculiar  because  they  are  so  inadequate  to  his 
place  in  the  history  of  the  Reformation.  There  will  be 
general  agreement  that  after  the  names  of  Luther,  Calvin, 
and  perhaps  Zuinglius,  no  name  connected  with  the 
rise  of  Protestantism  stands  higher  than  that  of  Knox. 
Yet  in  an  age  when  theological  speculation  was  rife, 
when  every  person  of  note  and  many  of  no  note 
attempted  it,  the  Scottish  leader  made  no  appreci- 
able contribution  to  doctrine.  Doubtless  a  professed 
theologian  could  point  to  some  shades  of  opinion  which 
he  would  mark  off  as  the  special  contribution  of  Knox ; 
and  he  certainly  showed  great  resource  in  adapting  the 
ecclesiastical  polity  of  Calvin  to  new  conditions  and 
surroundings.  But  the  fact  remains  that  no  world- 
stirring  doctrine,  nothing  that  any  spirit  higher  than  the 
bigotry  of  sects  would  fight  for,  belongs  especially  to 
Knox.  He  was  not  at  all  an  original  theologian;  he 
was  a  theological  polemic  of  rare  force  and  acuteness 
and  of  respectable  though  not  of  the  widest  learning. 
It  is  the  armoury  of  Calvin  that  supplies  him  with  all 
his  weapons ;    he    can    only    claim  the  credit  of  wielding 


1 1 0  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURK. 

them  with  dexterity  and  effect.  And  it  is  significant 
that  his  most  considerable  efforts  are  answers  to 
opponents ;  indeed  it  was  a  law  of  his  nature  that 
he  must  be  always  struggling  against  some  adversary, 
the  universal  adversary,  the  devil,  if  nothing  more  con- 
crete offered. 

The  principal,  indeed  the  only  full  and  elaborate  theo- 
logical work  which  Knox  has  left,  is  the  treatise  on 
Predestination,  or,  to  give  its  full  title.  An  afis7ver  to  a 
great  noniber  of  blasphettioiis  caidllations  written  by  an 
Anabaptist,  and  aduersm-ie  of  God's  eternal  Predestination^ 
and  confuted  by  John  Knox,  nii?iister  of  God's  word  in 
Scotland.  It  was  printed  at  Geneva  in  1560,  and  as  the 
work  of  Knox's  most  vigorous  years  it  may  be  fairly 
taken  as  the  measure  of  what  he  could  do  in  the  sphere 
of  theological  speculation.  The  treatise  is  Calvin  over 
again,  but  in  a  different  atmosphere.  Calvin  knows, 
Knox  feels ;  and  some  of  the  weaknesses  incidental  to 
feeling  appear  in  his  pages.  He  is  at  times  too  in- 
dignant with  his  adversary  to  answer  his  arguments,  and 
vituperation  occasionally  takes  the  place  of  reasoning. 
It  is  obvious  also  that  some  of  the  arguments  which  he 
uses  against  the  Anabaptist  could  be  turned  with  crushing 
force  against  himself:  for  instance,  it  ill  becomes  the 
school  to  which  Knox  belonged,  a  school  always  ready 
on  occasion  to  show  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
designs  of  deity,  to  plead  that  we  cannot  comprehend 
the  ways  of  God.^  No  doubt  there  is  truth  in  this ; 
but  it  inculcates  modesty  on  all  points,  not  merely  when 

^  The  plea  is  advanced  in  answer  to  the  argument  that  God  cannot 
have  reprobated  any,  because  that  would  be  cruel  and  unnatural. 


JOHN  KNOX.  1 1 1 

assurance  is  inconvenient.  The  doctrine  of  the  book 
need  hardly  be  criticised.  It  teaches  predestination  in 
its  hardest  form,  a  doctrine  familiar  ever  afterwards  in 
Scotland,  and  one  which  worked  out  its  own  Nemesis  two 
hundred  years  later  in  the  shape  of  Holy  Willies  Prayer. 
Of  the  writings  of  Knox  which  have  a  political  as  well 
as  a  religious  aspect  two  stand  out  prominent  —  the 
celebrated  Blast  and  the  History  of  the  Reformatio7i  in 
Scotland. 

The  First  Blast  of  the  Truvipet  against  the  Monstruous 
Regiment  of  Women  has  the  force   which   never  failed    its 
author,    and    a    degree    of    polish    which    in    subsequent 
more  distracted  days  he  was  seldom   able  to   give  to  his 
writings.     Its  boldness,  its  dramatic   fitness    for   the   time 
(or  unfitness   as    it   might   with   equal  truth   be    phrased), 
arrested   and   held  the   attention   of  men.     It  is  now  by 
far    the    best    known    of  its    author's  works.     Those  who 
know  nothing  else  about  Knox,  know   him   as    the   blind 
fanatic  who,  just  on  the  eve  when  truth  and  righteousness 
were  about  to  find  shelter  beneath  the  shield  of  a  queen,  set 
himself  to  prove  that  no  woman  ought  ever  to  be  a  queen. 
The    subject    had    been    in    Knox's   mind    ever   since  the 
accession  of  Mary  to  the  English  throne  ;    he    had    forti- 
fied   himself    with     high     authority     regarding    it ;     and 
doubtless  his  fellow-worker  and    friend,  Goodman,  whose 
thoughts  were  travelling   the    same  road,  stimulated    him. 
The  Blast,  therefore,  was    no    immature  and   hasty  work, 
but    one    which,    whatever     may     have    been     the    time 
occupied   in   the   actual   writing,  had   been    simmering   in 
its    author's    mind    for    some    years.       It    is    not    for    his 
learning  that  Knox  has  won  fame;    but    still    the    pile  of 


1 1 2  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

authorities  from  Scripture  and  the  Fathers,  and  from  pro- 
fane sources  like  Aristotle  and  the  Digest,  which  he 
accumulates  to  prove  his  point,  demonstrates  that  he 
was  far  from  being  contemptible  as  a  student.  The 
materials  were  plentiful,  and  Knox  makes  them  glow 
with  his  own  intense  conviction  and  fuses  them  into  one 
whole.  His  opinion  of  women  is  of  the  most  con- 
temptuous character.^  They  are  "weake,  fraile,  im- 
pacient,  feble,  and  foolishe";  they  are  "unconstant, 
variable,  cruell,  and  lacking  the  spirit  of  counsel  and 
regiment."  He  piles  epithet  upon  epithet  with  a  wonder- 
ful wealth  and  strength  of  diction.  As  regards  govern- 
ment, "it  is  no  more  possible  that  she  being  set  aloft  in 
authoritie  above  man  shall  resist  the  motions  of  pride, 
than  it  is  able  to  the  weake  reed,  or  to  the  turning 
wethercocke,  not  to  bowe  or  turne  at  the  vehemencie  of 
the  unconstant  wind."  ^  No  wonder  that  Elizabeth,  at 
once  vain  and  conscious  of  strength,  found  it  impossible 
to  forgive  language  of  this  kind.  Yet  in  the  Blast  itself 
Knox  had  left  himself  a  loophole  of  escape  if  he  had 
been  courtier  enough  to  take  advantage  of  it.  He  had 
to  acknowledge  such  cases  as  those  of  Deborah  and 
Huldah  as  exceptions:  "The  causes  were  known  to  God 
alone,  why  he  toke  the  spirit  of  wisdome  and  force 
from  all  men  of  those  ages,  and  did  so  mightily  assist 
wemen  against  nature,  and  against  his  ordinarie  course." 
But  subsequently,  when  Knox  did  make  some  clumsy 
efforts  to  propitiate  Elizabeth,  he  insisted  too  much  on 
her  case  being   against    nature    and    against  the    ordinary 

^  His  practice  however  was  better  than  his  theory. 
2  Works,  IV.  381. 


JOHN  KNOX.  113 

course  of  Providence,  and  laid  too  little  emphasis  on  the 
spirit  of  wisdom  and  force  which  had  been  breathed  into 
her. 

This  work,  more  than  anything  else,  has  called  down 
upon  Knox's  head  the  condemnation  alike  of  contemporaries 
and  of  subsequent  generations.  It  is  unfortunate  for  his 
reputation  that  the  Blast  is  the  best  known  of  his  writings, 
for  it  is  the  least  wise.  It  displays  his  fiery  energy,  his 
boundless  force,  his  profound  earnestness,  his  rapid  elo- 
quence;  but  it  shows  also  how  these  very  qualities  when 
uncontrolled  may  degenerate  into  violence  and  imprudence. 
Knox  was  by  no  means  habitually  imprudent,  but  from 
time  to  time  he  took  the  bit  between  his  teeth  and 
ran  off  ungovernable ;  and  it  was  seldom  that  he  could 
be  afterwards  brought  to  see  his  mistake.  It  was 
unwise  to  provoke  the  reigning  Queen  of  England,  and 
still  more  unwise  to  run  the  risk  of  alienating  one 
who  stood  so  near  the  throne  as  Elizabeth.  By  doing 
so,  Knox  harmed  the  Protestant  cause ;  he  made  the 
alliance  between  England  and  Scotland  more  difficult 
to  accomplish ;  and  he  offended  some  of  his  own  warmest 
friends.  Calvin  censured  the  Blast,  and  spoke  of  the 
author  with  some  asperity.  Knox  himself  was  so  far 
convinced  of  the  inexpediency  of  pursuing  the  subject 
that,  though  tempted  by  replies,  he  refrained  from  follow 
ing  it  up  as  he  had  intended  with  a  second  and  a  third 
blast.  "- 

But  the  Knox  of  literature  is  Knox  as  he  portrays  himself, 
his  age,  and  his  country  in  the  Historic  of  the  Reforviatioun 
of  Religioun  within  the  Realme  of  Scotia?id.  This  book 
is  so  intimately  connected  with  the  author's  life  that  in 

H 


1 1 4  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

the  preceding  sketch  of  his  career  much  of  the  criticism 
of  it  has  necessarily  been  anticipated.  Written  in  his 
busiest  years,  and  often  uncouth  in  style  and  disjointed 
from  want  of  revision,  it  yet  displays  qualities  far  higher 
and  more  varied  than  anything  else  that  ever  came 
from  his  pen.  Its  position  among  histories  is  remark- 
able, in  truth  not  much  short  of  unique.  An  original 
authority  written  with  the  fullest  knowledge  by  a  man  of 
genius  and  incomparable  force,  who  himself  made  the 
history  he  narrates,  is  clearly  a  precious  possession — at  once 
the  richest  storehouse  of  facts  and  the  most  vivid  picture  of 
the  age.  The  subject  was  exactly  suited  to  the  genius  of 
the  writer.  His  whole  being  was  absorbed  in  it.  He  had 
to  deal  no  longer  with  abstract  and  speculative  religion,  but 
with  religion  reduced  to  action,  influencing  the  conduct  of 
men  and  the  destinies  of  nations,  and  weaving  itself  in  with 
politics  and  the  life  of  courts  and  camps  no  less  than  with 
the  lives  of  families  and  individuals.  The  barriers  which 
seem  in  the  treatise  on  Predestination  to  hem  Knox  in  so 
closely  disappear,  and  he  gives  the  world  a  bold,  broad, 
forcible  picture  of  the  Scotland  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

T/ie  History  of  the  Reformation  professedly  leaves  out 
of  account  many  of  the  elements  in  the  life  of  the  nation. 
It  is  the  work  of  a  contemporary,  subject  to  the  errors 
inseparable  from  nearness  to  the  events  narrated.  It  is 
the  work  also  of  a  partisan  deeply  committed  to  a  particular 
view  of  the  central  controversy,  and  incapable  of  sympathy 
with  the  other  side.  Nevertheless  it  is  incomparably 
the  best  account  of  the  time.  The  limitation  to  mat- 
ters of  religion  is  less  cramping  than  it  might  seem; 
for  in  that  age  above  all  others  the  question  of  religion 


JOHN  KNOX.  115 

included  everything;  and  the  undoubted  prejudice  of  the 
writer  is  balanced  by  his  transparent  truthfulness,  and  the 
courage  and  intense  conviction  which  disdains,  or  rather 
never  dreams  of  concealment.  The  history  is  therefore 
a  trustworthy  record  of  the  knowledge  of  the  man  who 
knew  most  about  the  most  important  questions  of  his  time. 
How  far  it  towers  above  all  other  annals  of  the  age  can 
only  be  seen  by  comparison.  In  a  generation  and  country 
in  which  the  Diurnal  of  Ocacrrents  may  be  taken  as  typical 
of  the  prevalent  notion  of  history,  Knox  does  not  merely 
note  down  events.  He  marshals  and  arranges,  selects  and 
rejects,  gives  each  fact  its  due  place  in  what  to  him  and  to 
his  readers  is  not  a  mere  dead  chronicle  but  a  great  and 
absorbing  drama.  The  men  and  women  in  his  pages  are 
alive.  They  are  persons  whom  he  has  met,  with  whom  he 
has  held  familiar  converse,  and  of  whose  characters  he  has 
in  every  case  formed  his  own  strong  and  vivid  conception. 
The  picture  he  presents  may  not,  in  the  dispassionate 
judgment  of  later  ages,  be  a  true  likeness,  but  it  is  always 
the  picture  of  a  man,  never  of  a  lay  figure.  Every  person 
he  touches  upon,  every  incident  he  relates,  stands  clearly 
out  in  the  light  of  his  indignation,  his  scorn,  or  his  hearty 
sympathy  and  liking.  The  note  of  hesitation  is  rare 
indeed ;  for  Knox  was  almost  as  much  a  stranger  to  doubt 
as  he  was  to  fear — that  is,  after  he  had  once  made  up  his 
mind,  which  on  important  matters  he  did  slowly  and 
laboriously.  Above  all  he  had  the  gift  of  humour — 
humour  of  a  ponderous  rather  than  an  elegant  or  playful 
cast  it  is  true,  but  humour  deep  and  genuine.  Perfect 
mastery  of  the  subject,  insight  alternately  sarcastic  and 
sympathetic,    intense    conviction,    burning    wrath    against 


Il6  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

wrongdoers  (which  means  opponents),  and  inimitable  vigour 
of  style,  are  the  leading  characteristics  of  Knox's  history ; 
and  these  are  so  mingled  and  sustained  that  from  begin- 
ning to  end  the  book  is  never  dull.  The  reader,  if  he 
chances  to  differ  from  the  author  on  politics  or  religion, 
may  be  roused  to  anger,  may  denounce  the  bigotry,  the 
hardness,  the  narrowness,  the  egotism  of  the  writer,  but 
he  cannot  find  him  tedious. 

The  History,  Sihtx  a  preliminary  sketch  of  previous  religious 
movements  in  Scotland,  and  particularly  that  of  the  Lollards 
of  Kyle,  makes  a  formal  beginning  with  the  martyrdom  of 
Patrick  Hamilton  in  1528,  and  from  that  point  traces  the 
development  of  the  religious  controversy  down  to  the  close 
of  the  year  1564,  where  the  fourth  book  ends.  The  story 
is  continued  in  a  fifth  book,  which  however  was  never 
finished  by  Knox,  but  compiled  after  his  death  from  his 
papers.  For  the  whole  of  this  time  Knox  is  an  original 
authority  of  the  highest  rank  and  best  type.  He  was  over 
twenty  years  of  age  at  the  death  of  Hamilton ;  and  even  in 
the  years  of  his  banishment  he  was  so  closely  connected 
with  the  religious  movement,  that  his  authority  in  relation 
to  those  years  is  only  less  than  that  which  belongs  to  him 
in  the  time  when  he  was  himself  the  chief  actor. 

The  most  interesting  questions  which  the  Uisioty  suggests 
with  reference  to  its  author  as  a  man  and  a  historian  are, 
first,  his  tone  with  regard  to  his  enemies,  the  Catholics  ; 
secondly,  the  nature  of  his  relations  with  Mary;  and  thirdly, 
as  affording  a  wider  ground  for  judgment,  his  habitual 
attitude  towards  those  with  whom  he  was  brought  into  close 
contact,  either  friendly  or  hostile.  But  indeed  all  parts  of 
the  History  throw  light  upon  Knox's  own  character.     His 


JOHN  KNOX.  117 

unmistakable  stamp  is  upon  it ;  and  the  charge  of  egotism 
has  frequently  been  preferred  against  him  because  he  makes 
himself  the  central  figure  of  his  own  book.  He  certainly 
is  the  central  figure  ;  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  detect  evid- 
ences of  egotism.  Nevertheless  the  accusation  loses  its 
weicrht  when  it  is  remembered  that  Knox  could  not  but 
depict  himself  as  the  mainspring  of  the  movement  in 
religion  without  distorting  facts  and  throwing  everything 
into  a  false  perspective. 

Knox's  language  about  the  Catholics  is  such  as  might  be 
expected  from  his  character  and  circumstances.  He  held 
the  most  pronounced  opinions,  and  expressed  them  with 
all  the  vigour  of  which  words  are  capable.  His  vocabulary 
of  abuse  is  rich  and  varied  : — "  Baales  bleatting  preastis," 
"  idiot  Doctouris,"  "  Gray  Freiris  and  Blak  feindis,"  "  Black 
thevis  alias  Freiris."  Whatever  savoured  of  Popery  set  his 
blood  aflame.  There  was  nothing  in  life  he  enjoyed  so 
much  as  the  opportunity  of  striking  a  downright  blow  at  the 
Pope  or  his  priests,  unless  it  were  the  delight  of  recalling 
and  relating  as  a  "  meary  bourd  "  some  scandal  reflecting 
disgrace  upon  the  Church.  These  same  merry  bourds  or 
jests  of  Knox's  have  been  the  source  of  no  small  difficulty 
to  many  of  his  admirers.  They  are  inconsistent  with  the 
gravity  and  dignity  of  a  Reformer  who  ought  to  be,  but 
persists  in  proving  that  he  is  not,  superior  to  human 
weaknesses.  So  offensive  were  the  stories  that  they 
sharpened  the  scent  of  the  hunters  after  anachronisms  which 
were  to  prove  that  the  History  was  not  written  by  Knox  at 
all.^     But  the  objections  disappear  as  soon  as  we  consent 

^The  mistakes  and  inconsistencies  they  discovered  have   long  since 
been  shown  to  be  due  to  interpolations. 


1 1 8  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

to  regard  Knox  as  a  man  of  like  passions  with  ourselves,  a 
man  rejoicing,  as  meaner  mortals  sometimes  do,  to  catch  an 
enemy  tripping.  The  worst  that  can  be  said  of  his  stories 
is  that  in  one  or  two  cases  they  illustrate  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury habit  of  calling  things  by  their  plain  names.  And  on 
the  other  side  of  the  account  must  be  set  the  liveliness  they 
give  to  the  narrative  and  their  positive  historical  value. 
How  could  Knox  better  illustrate  the  degradation  of  the 
cursing  of  the  Church  than  by  the  ludicrous  quotation  from 
Friar  William  Arth  % — "  Ane  hes  tynt  a  spurtill.  Thair  is 
ane  flaill  stollin  from  thame  beyound  the  burne.  The  good- 
wyiff  of  the  other  syd  of  the  gait  hes  tynt  a  home  spune. 
Goddis  malesen  and  myne  I  geve  to  thame  that  knawis  of 
this  geyre,  and  restoris  it  not."^  No  satire  could  be  more 
effective  :  nothing  in  Lindsay  on  the  subject  is  so  pointed. 
But  perhaps  this  side  of  Knox's  mind  is  best  illustrated  by 
the  story  of  the  ridiculous  quarrel  between  Dunbar,  Arch- 
bishop of  Glasgow,  and  Cardinal  Beaton  about  the  bearing 
of  their  crosses — a  story  accessible  to  every  one  in  Carlyle's 
essay  on  the  portraits  of  Knox.  The  other  "merry 
bourds "  breathe  a  similar  spirit,  though  some  of  them 
would  in  the  present  day  be  thought  more  objectionable. 
There  is  nothing  in  them,  nor  in  the  History  as  a  whole, 
that  need  seriously  shock  anyone  who  is  prepared  to  hear 
a  Reformer  chuckle  grimly  over  a  scandalous  tale,  or 
who  can  sympathise  with  the  stern  joy  of  smiting  a  foe 
under  the  fifth  rib.  And  a  little  reflection  will  lessen 
any  distaste  that  may  still  be  felt.  It  was  rough  work  that 
Knox  had  to  do,  work  demanding  much  more  imperatively 
vigour  than    courtesy.      The  man  of  delicate  sensibilities, 

^  History,  I.  38. 


JOHN  KNOX.  1 19 

the  man  who  shrank  from  rough  methods,  and  who  shud- 
dered at  the  suggestion  of  coarseness,  would  never  have 
attempted  what  he  accomplished. 

These,  however,  are  matters  which  pain  chiefly  the  be- 
lieving disciples  of  Knox.  The  Catholics  of  his  own  day 
and  the  advocates  of  religious  liberty  of  recent  times  would 
draw  up  a  stronger  indictment  against  him.  They  would 
denounce  him  as  intolerant,  a  preacher  of  persecution,  and 
a  justifier  of  assassination ;  and  they  could  prove  each 
point.  It  would  be  waste  of  time  to  discuss  the  question 
of  tolerance.  Knox  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the 
word ;  no  more  did  anyone  else  in  that  age  who  was 
deeply  engaged  in  the  religious  dispute  on  either  side.  A 
few  laymen  like  Lethington  may  have  grasped  the  idea; 
but  it  was  because  they  were  connected  with  the  contro- 
versy only  by  accident.  A  more  pregnant  question,  and 
one  by  no  means  so  simple  as  it  seems,  is  how  far  this 
intolerance  can  be  justified.  Knox's  position  is  clearly 
laid  down  in  the  treatise  on  Predestination: — "We  say, 
the  man  is  not  persecuted  for  his  conscience,  that,  declin- 
ing from  God,  blaspheming  his  Majestic,  and  contemning 
his  religion,  obstinately  defendeth  erroneous  and  fals  doc- 
trine. This  man,  I  say,  lawfully  convicted,  if  he  suffer 
the  death  pronounced  by  a  lawful  Magistrate,  is  not  per- 
secuted (as  in  the  name  of  Servetus  ye  furiously  complein), 
but  he  suffereth  punishment  according  to  God's  command- 
ment, pronounced  in  Deuteronomie,  the  13  chapter."  ^  But 
it  must  be  added  that,  although  this  theory  would  have 
justified  atrocities  like  the  worst  of  Calvin's  acts,  Knox's 
hands   were   never   stained   with  blood    shed    on   account 

1  Works,  V.  231. 


120  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

of  religious  opinion.     Not  that  he  shrank  from  blood  when, 
as  he  thought,  occasion  called  for  it.     He  rejoiced  over  the 
death  of  Beaton.     He  was  equally  satisfied  with  the  fate 
of  "that  pultron  and    vyle    knave    Davie"    (Rizzio),  who 
was     "justlie    punished";     and     Morton,     Lindsay,    and 
Ruthven,   his    slayers,   are   described   as    "  unworthely  left 
of  thare  brethrein."      And   yet  on  other  occasions,  when 
men  of  more  moderate  opinions  would  have  felt  free  to 
act,    Knox    shows    the    most    scrupulous    regard    for    life. 
When    he   was    consulted    by   his    fellow-prisoners    in    the 
galleys   on   the   question   whether   they   were   justified    in 
making  their  escape,  he  pronounced  that  they  might  if  it 
could  be  done  without  bloodshed.      It   is  to  be  noticed 
that  though  Knox's  ex  post  facto  approval  of  the  assassina- 
tion of  Rizzio  and   Beaton  is  demonstrated,   there  is  no 
proof  that  he  knew  in  either  case  of  the  design  before  it 
was  accomplished.      It  may  be   suspected,  therefore,  that 
the  persecutor  who  never  persecuted,^  the  prisoner  unjustly 
confined  who  would  not  slay  his  gaoler  for  liberty,  though 
he  might  breathe  fire  and  slaughter  after  the  fact,  would, 
had  he  been  consulted  beforehand,  have  raised  his  voice 
for  mercy.      At   the  worst,    Knox's   intolerance   is   always 
respectable,  for  it  rests   on  a  reasoned  conviction  and  is 
never  the  result  of  a  blind  zeal  divorced  from  understand- 
ing.    There  are,  as  Tulloch  has  pointed  out,  twelve  years 
of  significant  silence  and  obscurity  in  Knox's  life,  during 
which,   if  we  may  judge    from    the  position   in   which   we 
find  him  at  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  the  period,  he 
must  have  been  gradually  working  his  way  from  Romanism 
to  Protestantism.     After  such  an  apprenticeship,  and  a  life 
^  I  refer  to  persecution  to  the  death. 


JOHN  KNOX.  12  1 

spent  in  maturing  and  confirming  the  opinions  then  formed, 
it  is  pardonable  if  those  opinions  were  strongly  and  un- 
yieldingly held. 

Knox's  opinion  of  Mary  and  his  relations  with  her  have 
been  already  discussed.  There  is  much  in  them  that  throws 
light  upon  the  man  ;  yet  perhaps  it  is  by  a  reference  to 
his  promiscuous  judgments  of  his  contemporaries  that  we 
best  learn  the  strength  and  weakness  of  his  character,  the 
extent  and  the  limits  of  his  insight  as  a  historian.  He 
was  keen  and  penetrating  whenever  his  wits  were  sharpened 
by  opposition ;  but  to  the  man  who  met  him  in  the  guise  of 
a  faithful  professor  he  was  guileless  as  a  child.  It  was  only 
after  long  experience  that  he  was  able  in  part  to  fathom  the 
character  of  Lethington.  He  accepted  without  reserve  the 
account  which  that  astute  diplomatist  gave  of  his  desertion 
of  the  Queen  Regent  in  the  crisis  of  the  struggle  between 
her  and  the  Protestants  :  "  Quhensoever  matteris  came  in 
questioun,  he  spared  not  to  speik  his  conscience ;  whiche 
libertie  of  toung,  and  gravitie  of  judgement,  the  Frenche 
did  heyghlie  disdane.  Whiche  perceaved  by  him,  he  con- 
voyed him  self  away  in  a  mornyng,  and  randered  him 
self  to  Maister  Kirkcaldy e.  Lard  of  Grange."  ^  And  in 
his  earlier  discussions  with  Lethington,  whenever  the 
latter  can  keep  his  bitter  tongue  from  open  sarcasm, 
Knox  misses  entirely  the  undercurrent  of  dissent  which 
accompanies  his  opponent's  expressions  of  conviction. 
Again,  he  takes  the  professions  of  the  Scottish  nobility 
as  due  entirely  to  love  of  religion,  and  dreams  his 
dream  undisturbed  until  their  conduct  on  the  question  of 
the  Church  property  makes  it  only  too  manifest  that  their 

1  History,  I.  463. 


122  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

motives  were  mixed.  On  the  other  hand,  if  his  friends 
differed  from  him  on  questions  which  Knox  considered  vital, 
he  did  not  spare  to  denounce  them.  Even  Murray  he 
broke  with  absolutely  for  a  time ;  though  it  should  be  re- 
marked that  while  condemning  Murray's  policy  he  had 
nothing  to  say  against  the  character  of  the  man. 

Evidently  it  is  necessary  to  test  Knox's  judgments  by 
reference  to  something  else  ;  but  this  is  the  less  difficult 
because,  as  the  course  of  events  opens  his  eyes,  he  himself 
often  furnishes  the  means  of  correction.  His  errors  are 
those  of  a  man  of  strong  passions,  credulous  for  good  where 
those  who  professed  his  own  faith  were  concerned,  for  evil 
in  respect  of  all  who  were  tainted  with  the  pollution  of  the 
Scarlet  Woman ;  but  they  are  minimised  by  his  invincible 
truthfulness  and  by  a  natural  acuteness  which,  once  excited, 
seldom  failed  to  penetrate  to  the  heart  of  a  question.  We 
must  reject  many  of  the  stories  which  Knox  accepts  without 
misgiving  from  public  report ;  but  it  is  seldom  that  his 
deliberate  judgment  on  matters  of  weight  has  to  be  re- 
versed. He  had  the  endowments  of  a  statesman  in 
remarkable  measure,  and  in  the  most  unfavourable  cir- 
cumstances those  endowments  commanded  recognition. 
It  has  already  been  pointed  out  that  even  Elizabeth  had 
to  recognise  in  him  the  true  mouthpiece  of  Scotland. 
The  statesmanlike  mind  is  visible  too  in  his  work  as  a 
reformer.  It  is  in  the  direction  of  ecclesiastical  polity 
that  he  is  most  original.  While  he  follows  the  model  of 
Geneva,  many  important  elements  in  the  Presbyterian 
system  of  Scotland  are  the  original  contributions  of  Knox, 
or  of  Knox  and  his  fellow-ministers ;  for  it  is,  as  a  rule, 
impossible    to    disentangle    his   work    from    theirs.      The 


JOHN  KNOX.  123 

changes  since  made  have  in  general  had  the  effect  of 
narrowing  and  hardening  the  system  which  we  associate 
with  the  name  of  the  great  Reformer;  for  in  his  day  the 
quarrel  with  Episcopacy  was  not  so  embittered  as  it 
afterwards  became. 

Knox  was  a  Puritan,  though  a  Puritan  of  very  massive 
build ;  and  he  had  his  share  of  the  Puritan  faults,  their  want 
of  sympathy  with  art  and  with  the  popular  forms  of  recrea- 
tion, and  their  tendency  to  misjudge  all  the  non-religious 
aspects  and  elements  of  life.  The  Scottish  Reformers,  like 
the  English  Puritans,  set  their  faces  against  the  games  and 
shows  of  the  day,  and  in  so  doing  brought  themselves  into 
violent  conflict  with  the  mob  of  Edinburgh,  then  just 
learning  its  own  strength  and  developing  those  habits  of 
turbulence  which  it  retained  for  generations  after.  They 
had  no  appreciation  of  the  innocent  gaieties  and  elegancies 
of  life,  and  often  denounced  Mary  and  her  ladies  for 
conduct  in  which  the  modern  eye  sees  little  to  blame. 
It  must  however  be  remembered  that  the  amusement  at 
which  they  railed  most  fiercely,  the  dance,  has  greatly 
changed  since  the  sixteenth  century.  Some  forms  of  it 
had  then  a  meaning,  and  a  meaning  best  left  in  obscurity. 
On  one  occasion  Knox's  moralising  on  the  fripperies  of 
life  is  irresistibly  quaint  as  well  as  grim.  After  an  angry 
interview  he  had  been  sent  from  the  Queen's  cabinet  to  wait 
in  an  outer  room,  where  he  began  "  to  forge  talking  of  the 
ladyes  who  war  thair  sitting  in  all  thair  gorgious  apparell  ; 
which  espyed,  he  mearelie  said,  '  O  fair  Ladyes,  how  pleasing 
war  this  lyeff  of  youris,  yf  it  should  ever  abyd,  and  then  in 
the  end  we  myght  passe  to  heavin  with  all  this  gay  gear. 
But  fyeupoun  that  knave  Death,  that  will  come  whitther  we 


1 24  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

will  or  not  !  And  when  he  hes  laid  on  his  areist,  the  fouU 
wormes  wilbe  busye  with  this  flesche,  be  it  never  so  fayr 
and  so  tender,  and  the  seally  sowll,  I  fear,  shalbe  so  feable, 
that  it  can  neather  cary  with  it  gold,  garnassing,  targatting, 
pearle,  nor  pretious  stanes.' "  ^ 

Yet  Knox  was  no  kill-joy.  So  far  as  he  seems  so,  it 
is  the  result  rather  of  the  iron  creed  he  had  adopted  than 
of  the  native  disposition  of  the  man.  There  was  kindliness 
and  even  jollity  at  the  root  of  his  character.  These  quali- 
ties constantly  appear  in  the  humour  which  permeates  his 
writings,  and  more  touchingly  on  the  rare  occasions  when 
they  are  suffered  to  modify  his  judgment,  or  at  least  his 
language.  There  is  a  passage  in  James  Melville's  Diary 
which  shows  Knox  in  a  light  that  will  be  new  to  many. 
Regarding  Morton's  appointment  of  John  Douglas  as 
Bishop  of  St.  Andrews,  he  says,  "  I  hard  Mr.  Knox  speak 
against  it,  bot  sparinglie,  because  he  louit  the  man,  and 
with  regrat,  saying,  '  Alas  !  for  pitie,  to  lay  vpone  an  auld 
weak  man's  bak,  that  quhilk  twentie  of  the  best  gifts  could 
nocht  bear.  It  will  wrak  him  and  disgrace  him.'  "  -  One 
of  the  closing  acts  of  Knox's  life  was  prompted  by  a  regard  for 
the  "creature-comforts"  of  his  friends.  Within  a  few  days  Of 
his  death  two  of  them  came  to  dine  with  him.  He  pierced 
a  hogshead  of  wine  for  their  entertainment,  and  "  willed 
them  to  send  for  the  same  so  long  as  it  lasted,  for  that 
he  would  not  tarry  till  it  was  drunken."  •' 

All  that  is  known  of  Knox  prepares  us  to  find  him 
greater  as  a  preacher  than  in  any  other  capacity  that 
can  be   measured    by   a  literary  standard.     Unfortunately 

^History,  II.  389.  -  Wodrow  Society  ed.,  p.  31. 

^  Bannatvne's  Memorials. 


JOHN  KNOX.  125 

the  materials  for  forming  a  judgment  are  scanty.  One 
complete  sermon  and  a  few  summaries  and  fragments 
are  all  that  remain  of  that  pulpit  eloquence  which  made 
him  singly  a  match  for  all  the  forces  that  could  be 
arrayed  against  him.  These  poor  remnants  cannot  fail 
to  be  impressive  to  any  one  who  thinks  of  the  issues 
which  hung  upon  them  when  they  were  uttered ;  but  it 
is  difficult,  for  a  Scotchman  perhaps  above  all,  to  be 
just  to  the  abridgements  which  Knox  has  occasionally 
given  in  his  History.  Three  hundred  years  of  denuncia- 
tions against  the  Pope  as  the  Man  of  Sin,  the  Antichrist, 
and  so  on,  have  somewhat  weakened  the  force  of  these 
expressions.  But  it  is  a  different  matter  where  the  ipsissima 
verba  are  preserved.  Sometimes  in  tones  of  noble  and 
solemn  eloquence,  sometimes  with  an  energy  of  denunciation 
almost  portentous,  Knox  rouses  his  hearers  to  maintain 
their  cause,  or  scares  them  from  the  paths  of  sin.  We 
hardly  look  to  him  for  an  illustration  of  what  Matthew 
Arnold  has  called  the  "  grand  style "  :  he  seems  to  lack 
an  element  of  self-restraint  necessary  to  it.  And  yet  it 
would  be  difficult  to  find  a  better  example  of  the  grand 
style  in  prose  than  the  passage  which  follows.  The 
words  were  spoken  at  a  time  when  Knox  thought  he 
perceived  signs  of  backsliding,  when  those  who  had 
been  hitherto  the  most  faithful  supporters  of  the  Reforma- 
tion seemed  to  him  to  be  deserting  the  cause,  and  he 
was  estranged  even  from  Murray.  It  was  in  such  cir- 
cumstances that  Knox's  genius  always  flamed  highest: — 
"  In  the  progresse  of  this  corruptioun,  and  befoir  the 
Parliament  dissolved,  Johne  Knox,  in  his  sermon  befoir 
the  most  parte  of  the  Nobilitie,  began  to  enter  in  a  deape 


126  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

discourse  of  Goddis  mercyes  which  that  Realme  had  felt, 
and  of  that  ingratitude  quhilk  he  espyed  ahiiost  in  the 
hoill  multitude,  which  God  had  niarvelouslie  delivered 
from  the  boundage  and  tyrannye  both  of  bodye  and  saule. 
'And  now,  my  Lordis,'  said  he,  *I  praise  my  God,  throught 
Jesus  Christ,  that  in  your  awin  presence  I  may  powre 
furth  the  sorowis  of  my  hearte ;  yea,  your  selfis  shalbe 
witnesse,  yf  that  I  shall  maik  any  ley  in  thingis  that  ar 
bypast.  From  the  begyning  of  Goddis  myghty  wirking 
within  this  Realme,  I  have  been  with  you  in  your  most 
desperat  tentationis.  Ask  your  awin  consciences,  and 
lett  thame  answer  you  befoir  God,  yf  that  I  (not  I,  but 
Goddis  spirite  by  me),  in  your  greatest  extremitie  willed 
you  nott  ever  to  depend  upoun  your  God,  and  in  his 
name  promissed  unto  you  victorye  and  preservatioun  from 
your  ennemyes,  so  that  you  wold  only  depend  upoun 
his  protectioun,  and  preferr  his  glory  to  your  awin  lyves 
and  worldlie  commoditie.  In  your  most  extream  dangearis 
I  have  bein  with  you  :  Sanct  Johnestoun,  Cowper  Mure, 
and  the  Craiggis  of  Edinburgh,  are  yitt  recent  in  my 
heart ;  yea,  that  dark  and  dolorouse  nyght  whairin  all 
ye,  my  Lordis,  with  schame  and  feare  left  this  toune,  is 
yitt  in  my  mynd  ;  and  God  forbid  that  ever  I  forgett  it. 
What  was  (I  say)  my  exhortatioun  unto  you,  and  what 
is  fallen  in  vane  of  all  that  God  ever  promised  unto  you 
by  my  mouth,  ye  your  selfis  yitt  lyve  to  testifie.  Thair 
is  nott  one  of  you  against  whom  was  death  and  destruc- 
tioun  threatned,  perished  in  that  danger :  And  how  many 
of  your  ennemyes  hes  God  plagued  befoir  your  eyis ! 
Shall  this  be  the  thankfulness  that  ye  shall  render  unto 
your  God,  to   betray  his  cause,  when  ye  have  it  in   your 


JOHN  KNOX.  I  27 

awin  handis  to  establesh  it  as  ye  please?  The  Quene, 
say  ye,  will  not  agree  with  us  :  Ask  ye  of  hir  that  which 
by  Goddis  word  ye  may  justlie  requyre,  and  yf  she  will 
not  agree  with  you  in  God,  ye  ar  not  bound  to  agree 
with  her  in  the  Devill:  Lett  hir  plainelie  understand  so 
far  of  your  myndis,  and  steall  not  from  your  formar  stout- 
ness in  God,  and  he  shall  prosper  you  in  your  interpryses.'  "^ 
But  the  preacher's  habitual  style  seems  to  have  been 
fierier,  more  headlong  than  this.  All  that  was  in  Knox 
found  expression  from  the  pulpit;  his  self-confidence,  his 
scorn  and  humour,  his  hostility,  and  his  affection.  There 
exists  fortunately  contemporary  evidence  of  the  effect  of 
his  preaching  upon  his  hearers.  James  Melville,  then  a 
lad  of  fifteen,  records  the  impression  Knox  produced  upon 
him  at  St.  Andrews  in  1571  : — "I  hard  him  teatche  ther 
the  prophecie  of  Daniel  that  simmer  and  the  wintar  follow- 
ing. I  haid  my  pen  and  my  litle  book,  and  tuk  away  sic 
things  as  I  could  comprehend.  In  the  opening  upp  of 
his  text  he  was  moderat  the  space  of  an  halfif  houre ;  bot 
when  he  enterit  to  application,  he  maid  me  sa  to  grew  and 
tremble,  that  I  could  nocht  hald  a  pen  to  wryt."^  Still 
more  impressive,  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  examples 
of  the  power  of  indomitable  spirit  to  triumph  over  bodily 
frailty,  is  the  sketch  which  the  same  diarist  has  left  of  the 
old  man  just  before  his  death  in  1572  : — "  I  saw  him  everie 
day  of  his  doctrine  go  hulie  and  fear,  with  a  furring  of 
martiks  about  his  neck,  and  guid  godlie  Richart  Ballanden 
his  servand,  haldin  upe  the  vther  oxtar,  from  the  Abbey 
to  the  paroche  Kirk,  and  be  the  said  Richart  and  another 

'^History,  II.   384. 

"^  Autobiography  and  Diary,  Wodrow  Soc,  p.  26. 


128  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURK. 

servant,  lifted  vpe  to  the  pul[)it,  whar  he  behovit  to  lean 
at  his  first  entrie,  hot  or  lie  haid  done  with  his  sermont, 
he  was  sa  active  and  vigorus,  that  he  was  lyk  to  ding  that 
pulpit  in  blads  and  flie  out  of  it."  ^ 

Even  scepticism  need  hardly  grudge  to  this  impressive 
figure  the  crowning  glory  which  early  admirers  claimed 
for  him — that  of  the  power  of  prophecy.  More  recent 
followers  have  sought  to  deny  that  he  himself  advanced 
such  a  claim,  or  to  explain  it  away.  But  surely  denial  and 
explanation  are  alike  hopeless  and  unnecessary.  Whatever 
may  be  thought  of  the  reality  of  the  gift,  the  belief  that  he 
possessed  it  sits  not  ill  on  him  who,  as  Carlyle  says,  "re- 
sembles more  than  any  of  the  moderns  an  old  Hebrew 
prophet " ;  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  belief  was 
genuine.  In  a  great  many  cases  Knox  speaks  simply  as  the 
interpreter  of  "  the  ways  of  God  to  man  "  with  the  ordinary 
means  at  his  command — Scripture,  the  rules  of  right  and 
wrong,  the  past  dealings  of  Providence.  But  certainly  in  a 
few  cases,  in  the  prediction  of  the  fate  of  Thomas  Maitland 
and  of  Kirkcaldy  of  Grange  for  instance,  we  detect  the  con- 
fidence and  precision  of  the  seer.  It  is  only  to  the  modern 
mind  that  this  is  a  stumbling-block.  We  should  either 
despise  the  intellect  or  suspect  the  honesty  of  the  man  who 
should  now  indulge  in  such  vaticinations,  and  we  forget  that 
at  the  Reformation  the  idea  of  a  special  enlightenment  was 
familiar  to  every  mind,  and  such  enlightenment  claimed  by 
the  best  and  most  sincere. 

'^  Autobiography  and  Diary,  Wodrow  Soc,  p.  33. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   ANGLO-SCOTTISH    POETS    OF   THE 
SEVENTEENTH    CENTURY. 

It  has  become  a  commonplace  of  criticism  that  any  pro- 
found agitation  of  the  human  mind,  however  apparently 
foreign  to  literature,  is  favourable  to  literary  activity ;  and 
it  is  customary  to  point  by  way  of  illustration  to  the  effect 
of  the  political  activity  of  Athens  in  the  age  of  Pericles 
upon  the  Athenian  mind,  of  the  French  Revolution  upon 
Europe  at  large,  and  of  the  Reformation  more  especially 
upon  England.  There  is  much  truth  in  this  doctrine ;  but 
facts  do  not  justify  the  laying  it  down  as  an  absolute  rule. 
The  Reformation  and  Renaissance  in  Scotland  yield  no 
equivalent  to  the  poetry  of  Spenser  and  Shakespeare,  the 
prose  of  Bacon  and  Hooker.  On  the  contrary,  when  these 
forces  had  been  fully  developed  we  observe  decay  rather 
than  progress  in  letters.  The  golden  age  of  Scottish  poetry 
is  to  be  found  in  the  time  of  James  IV.,  before  the  Refor- 
mation, not  after  it,  in  the  time  of  Mary.  The  great 
collections  known  as  the  Bannatyne  and  Maitland  MSS. 
would  almost  seem  to  have  been  made  under  a  kind  of 
prescience  that  the  art  enshrined  in  them  was  a  declining 
one  and  required  to  be  preserved.     A  century  and  a  half 


130  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

passed  before  it  again  flourished  as  it  had  done  up  to  the 
time  of  Lindsay.  The  ecclesiastical  disputes  which  filled 
this  long  period  were  sufficient  to  keep  the  country  in  a 
state  of  unrest,  but  they  were  not  of  a  character  to  produce, 
nor  did  they  in  fact  produce,  new  ideas.  They  rather 
withered  them.  It  is  easy  to  understand  how  Luther's 
struggle  for  righteousness  and  purity  against  corruption 
throned  in  high  places,  or  how  the  revolutionary  cry — 
generous  even  if  in  part  mistaken — of  liberty,  fraternity, 
and  equality,  stirred  the  minds  of  men  to  great  thoughts 
as  well  as  to  great  deeds ;  but  to  expect  the  same 
results  from  the  petty  quarrels  of  prelate  and  presbyter 
would  be  to  show  blindness  to  proportion.  And  it  was 
the  misfortune  of  Scotland  that  her  Reformation,  begun 
greatly  and,  as  a  struggle  for  freedom,  rising  occasionally 
to  greatness  even  in  later  days,  too  often  and  too  long 
dealt  only  with  the  trivial  and  commonplace. 

The  period  thus  adversely  affected  by  the  theological 
divisions  within  the  country  is  not  indeed  an  absolute 
blank  in  literature,  but  its  productions  are  at  once  few  and, 
alike  in  prose  and  in  poetry,  different  in  character  from 
those  of  Pre-Reformation  times.  The  earlier  writers  are 
distinctively  Scotch.  From  the  time  of  the  War  of  Inde- 
pendence downwards  the  writers  north  of  the  Tweed  have 
ideas  and  characteristics  of  their  own  which  mark  them  off 
from  their  English  brethren.  After  the  Reformation  the 
differences  begin  to  be  effaced.  Even  the  prose  of  Knox 
is  partly  Anglicised ;  and  after  Knox  the  process  of 
assimilation  goes  farther.  Many  causes  combined  to  pro- 
duce this  result.  Every  event  which  weakened  the  old 
alliance   with    France,    everything    which    drew    Scotland 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI I th  CENTURY.  131 

politically  nearer  to  England,  tended  towards  it.  The 
union  of  the  crowns  promised  it  permanence.  Under  any 
circumstances  the  accession  of  James  VI.  to  the  English 
throne  would  have  been  an  event  of  the  highest  import- 
ance ;  in  the  actual  state  of  affairs  it  worked  for  the  time, 
but  only  for  the  time,  a  revolution  in  literature.  The  king's 
own  literary  tastes  made  his  influence  greater  than  that  of 
the  ordinary  sovereign  would  have  been.  While  he  was  still 
in  Scotland  the  small  band  of  poets  and  poetasters  had 
learned  to  look  to  him  as  the  source  of  honour,  and  to 
bow  with  at  least  assumed  deference  to  his  canons  of 
criticism.  They  took  their  satisfaction  underhand  in  prais- 
ing one  another's  works,  and  in  comparing  them  with  those 
of  the  royal  scribbler,  not  to  his  advantage.  Many  of 
these  men  followed  James  to  England,  and  formed  around 
him  one  of  those  bands  of  "  beggarly  Scots "  whose 
presence  enraged  his  English  subjects. 

At  a  somewhat  earlier  time  it  is  possible  to  trace  other 
external  influences  on  Scottish  poetry  besides  the  influence 
of  England.  Italian  poetry,  which  through  Wyatt  and 
Surrey  told  so  powerfully  on  English,  affects  similarly, 
though  less  directly  and  at  a  later  date,  the  poetry  of 
Scotland.  It  is  traceable  in  the  new  forms  and  models 
which  exercised  the  ingenuity  of  Montgomery,  as  well  as 
in  the  translations  of  William  Fowler  and  Stewart  of  Bal- 
dynneis.  But  the  models  of  the  Scots  who  frequented 
the  English  court  of  James  were  English.  They  were 
however  not  of  the  young  and  vigorous  dramatic  school. 
The  sonneteers  and  euphuists  were  more  congenial,  more 
adaptable  to  the  purposes  of  court  panegyric  and  affected 
raptures ;  for  the  curse  of  patronage  was  upon  these  men. 


1 3  2  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

At  times,  in  their  higher  moods,  they  showed  some  of  the 
chivalrous  quahties  of  Sidney;  in  modes  of  thought  and 
turns  of  expression  they  sometimes  anticipated  the  CavaUer 
poets.  They  were  Hke  the  CavaHers  in  this,  that  if  we 
except  Drummond  of  Hawthornden,  a  man  who  led  a  hfe 
apart,  they  had  little  of  the  character  of  professional 
writers.  Sir  Robert  Ay  ton,  who  on  occasion  soared 
above  any  of  them,  left  behind  but  a  i^^  pieces.  Sir 
Robert  Kerr,  afterwards  Earl  of  Ancrum,  whose  contem- 
porary reputation  stood  high,  is  now  known  only  by  a 
version  of  the  Psalms  and  one  fine  sonnet  addressed  to 
Drummond  of  Hawthornden  and  printed  with  his  works. 
Montrose,  who  came  later,  resembled  these  men  in  the 
scantiness  of  his  verse.  Those  on  the  other  hand  whose 
effusions  were  more  bulky,  like  Sir  William  Alexander  of 
Menstrie,  afterwards  Earl  of  Stirling,  Sir  David  Murray  of 
Gorthy,  and  Alexander  Craig  of  Rosecraig,  had  unfortu- 
nately but  a  small  share  of  the  fine  frenzy.  Their  verse  was 
courtly  to  a  degree.  Scotland's  tears  on  the  departure  of 
James  for  England,  Scotland's  tears  for  his  death,  the  joy 
of  her  very  rivers  and  mountains  when  the  sovereign  deigned 
to  revisit  them,  endless  elegies  on  the  death  of  Prince 
Henry — these  and  the  like  were  the  favourite  subjects 
when  the  poets  were  not  engaged  in  tinkering  the  royal 
psalms  and  acting  admiration  of  the  royal  talents.  Yet 
those  men  were  admired  in  their  day ;  and  one  of  them. 
Sir  William  Alexander,  won  unmeasured  commendation. 
Even  Drummond,  himself  a  poet,  and  a  man  who  did  not 
scatter  his  praises  indiscriminately,  considered  him  greater 
than  Tasso.^ 

^  Drummond  was,  however,  a  personal  friend  of  Alexander. 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI I th  CENTURY.  1 33 

Alexander's  works  have  been  thought  worthy  to  be 
collected  and  published  during  the  present  generation, 
not  through  the  agency  of  those  literary  and  anti- 
quarian societies  which  have  given  a  dubious  immortality 
to  so  many  obscure  scribblers,  but  as  a  private  venture 
In  the  edition  issued  by  Maurice  Ogle  at  Glasgow  they 
fill  three  respectable  volumes,  all  solid  versification ;  for 
the  text  is  little  encumbered  with  notes  and  the  intro- 
ductory matter  is  not  bulky.  There  are  therefore 
ample  materials  for  forming  a  judgment  upon  the  pre- 
decessor, and,  as  he  was  considered,  the  solitary  rival 
among  Scotchmen  of  Drummond  of  Hawthornden.  The 
hitherto  generally  accepted  date  of  his  birth,  1580,  is 
almost  certainly  too  late,  and  too  late  probably  by  about 
a  dozen  years.  If  so,  the  greater  part  of  his  poems 
must  no  longer  be  regarded  as  the  productions  of  a  man 
quite  young,  but  of  one  in  the  full  maturity  of  his 
powers.  Alexander  followed  closely  after  James  to  Eng- 
land, and  thus  came  into  personal  contact  with  the  great 
Elizabethans.  The  subjects  which  then  occupied  his 
own  mind  were  of  a  nature  to  open  it  to  the  influences 
around;  for  Darius,  the  first  of  the  Monarckicke  Tragedies, 
had  been  published  in  Edinburgh  in  1603,  and  the 
others  of  the  series  were  composed  in  the  very  years 
when  Shakespeare's  great  tragedies  were  being  written 
and  acted.  At  this  time  Alexander  held  a  position  in 
the  household  of  Prince  Henry,  on  whose  death  he 
passed  into  the  service  of  Charles.  From  the  year  16 14, 
when  he  was  made  Master  of  Requests,  political  advance- 
ment much  diminished  his  literary  activity.  His  public 
career  was  fatal  also  to  his  personal  popularity.      All  the 


1 34  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

leading  affairs  with  which  he  was  connected  brought  him 
into    deeper     disrepute     among     his     countrymen.      The 
enormous  grant  of  lands  in  Nova  Scotia  made  to  him  in 
1621   was  not  in    itself  unpopular;    but  the   arrangement 
whereby  those  lands  afterwards  passed  into  the   hands  of 
the  French,  stripping  Alexander's  Nova  Scotian  baronets^ 
of  their  possessions,  was  wrongly   believed   to   have   been 
the    result    of   a    dishonest    barter    by    him,   and    brought 
upon  liim  the  loud  complaints  of  all  who  had  bought  an 
interest    in    his    domain.      In    the    office    of  Secretary    of 
State  for  Scotland,  to  which    he   was   advanced    in    1626, 
he    earned    a    reputation    for    avarice    which    still    further 
blackened  his  name  all  over  the  country.     As  the   repre- 
sentative and  mouthpiece  of  the   court  in  the  years  when 
the  court  was  most   unpopular,  it  was   indeed   impossible 
for    him    to    escape    vituperation.       His   unfortunate   con- 
nexion with  King  James's  version  of  the  Psalms,  in  which 
he  had  been  the  King's  fellow-worker  and  counsellor,  and 
which  after  the   accession    of   Charles    he    had    been    ap- 
pointed to  revise,  brought   him    into    direct  collision  with 
the    religious    sentiment    of  the    people.     He    obtained  a 
monopoly  for  thirty-one  years  of  the  right  of  printing  the 
royal    version,  which    beyond   doubt   comes    in  part,  pro- 
bably in  large  part,  from  Alexander's    own    pen.     It    was 
decisively  rejected  in  Scotland  and  regarded  with  disfavour 
in  England ;    and    the  efforts  made  to  enforce  its  accept- 
ance   only    confirmed    the    ill    repute    of   the    monopolist 
who  would  have  benefited  by  the  success  of  those  efforts. 
Some  of  his   countrymen  traced  the  finger  of  Providence 

^On  payment   of  ^150,  a  man  not  only  became  a  baronet  of  Nova 
Scotia  but  received  a  grant  of  six  square  miles  of  land. 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI Ith  CENTURY.  135 

in  his  later  fate.  Though  he  continued  a  favourite  with 
the  King,  was  raised  to  the  peerage,  and  received  various 
honours,  misfortune  overtook  him,  and  he  died  in  1640, 
poor  and  unhappy. 

Alexander's  literary  life,  so  far  as  it  is  marked  out  by 
dates  of  publication,  is  practically  confined  within  the 
first  eleven  years  of  James's  reign  in  England.  It  begins 
with  the  publication  of  the  tragedy  of  Darius  in  1603 
and  ends  with  the  Dootnesday  in  16 14.  Setting  aside  the 
Encouragement  to  Colonies,  the  aim  of  which  was  practical, 
not  literary,  and  the  work  he  did  in  patching  up  the 
Psalms,  he  produced  after  the  latter  date  nothing  except 
fugitive  verses.  But  although  Darius  was  the  first  piece 
which  he  gave  to  the  world,  it  is  probable  that  his  earliest 
composition  was  Aurora,  a  collection  of  sonnets  inter- 
spersed with  songs  and  madrigals,  all  on  the  subject  of 
love.  He  calls  it  "  this  childish  birth  of  a  conceitie 
braine,"  and  alludes  to  scenes  of  travel  as  if  he  were  then 
among  them.  It  is  therefore  probable  that  Aurora  was 
written  very  soon  after  Alexander  left  college,  when  he 
is  known  to  have  travelled  on  the  Continent  with  Archi- 
bald, seventh  Earl  of  Argyll.  The  sonnets  never  reach  a 
high  level.  They  betray  in  numerous  ingenuities  of  fancy 
and  expression  the  "  conceitie  braine,"  and  have  all  the 
artificiality  and  more  than  all  the  monotony  to  be  looked 
for  in  so  long  a  series  devoted  to  the  praises  of  a 
mistress  and  lamentations  of  her  cruelty.  Still,  the 
author  was  young ;  and  it  might  have  been  expected  that 
greater  experience  in  composition  and  the  vigour  of 
mind  coming  from  maturer  years  would  have  enabled 
him   to   overcome   his   faults.     That    he   disappoints   such 


1 36  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

hopes  may  be  due  to  the  stifling  atmosphere  of  courtly 
compHment  in  which  he  afterwards  moved.  A  favourable 
specimen  of  his  style  in  Aurora  may  be  found  in  the 
eighth  song,  a  description  of  the  charms  of  the  lady. 
The  ideas  are,  and  were  even  then,  hackneyed ;  but 
they  are  well  strung  together  and  gracefully  expressed, 
and  the  song,  notwithstanding  a  feeble  conclusion,  deserves 
more  praise  than  it  is  possible  to  give  to  most  of  its  class. 

The  other  works  of  Sir  W,  Alexander  are  all,  with  the 
exception  of  some  fugitive  pieces,  of  a  more  serious  cast 
than  Aurora.  The  most  obvious  division  among  them 
is  that  which  would  separate  the  dramas  from  the  rest ; 
but  it  is  a  distinction  more  apparent  than  real ;  for  the 
Monarchicke  Tragedies  are  of  all  dramas  the  least  dra- 
matic. They  are  slow  in  movement,  full  of  repetitions, 
destitute  of  living  human  characters,  unfit  alike  for  the 
stage  and  the  study.  Little  or  nothing  is  given  as 
enacted ;  there  is  not  even  vigorous  and  progressive 
narrative,  but,  instead,  windy  commonplace  reflections. 
The  funeral  pace  of  the  action  may  be  measured  by 
the  fact  that  the  Alcxaiidraean  Tragedy  opens  with  a 
long  speech  by  the  ghost  of  Alexander,  bewailing  that 
nobody  will  bury  him  ;  and  in  Act  III.,  Scene  2, 
Olympias  and  Roxana  are  still  lamenting  his  death, 
and  have  scarce  any  discoverable  function  but  to 
lament  it.  The  tragedies  in  short  are  unlike  almost  any- 
thing that  the  world  is  familiar  with  under  the  name  of 
dramas.  They  stand  apart  from  the  true  Elizabethan 
play  with  its  abounding  life,  its  vigorous  action,  its  fulness 
of  present  interest.  As  little,  perhaps  even  less,  have 
they  any  vital  relation  to  the  classical  drama.     It  is  true 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI I th  CENTURY.  1 37 

there  are  superficial  resemblances,  as  in  the  employment 
of  choruses ;  but  of  the  severe  order,  the  artistic  beauty, 
the  singleness  of  purpose,  and  the  restraint  of  a  Greek 
tragedy  there  is  no  trace.  The  unities  are  cast  to  the 
wind,  not  only  those  of  time  and  place,  which  do  not 
matter,  but  that  of  action  as  well,  which  does.  If  Alex- 
ander suggests  anybody  in  the  annals  of  dramatic  com- 
position it  is  Lord  Brooke ;  and  that  because  of  common 
defects  rather  than  common  merits.  The  works  of  both 
are  equally  preposterous  as  plays  ;  but  Alexander's  have 
not  the  power  and  weight  of  thought  which  half  redeems 
Lord  Brooke's  tragedies. 

It  would  be  superfluous  to  examine  in  detail  compositions 
which  possess  so  little  merit.  The  most  interesting,  per- 
haps, of  the  Monarchicke  Tragedies,  less  for  what  it  contains 
than  for  the  comparison  it  suggests,  is  the  latest,  Julius 
Ccesar.  It  appeared  first  among  the  collected  dramas  in 
1607,^  and  may  be  taken,  therefore,  as  a  mature  fruit  of 
the  author's  mind  and  literary  experience.  Most  of  the 
great  Shakespearian  tragedies  were  then  known  to  the 
world ;  and  it  is  almost  certain  that  his  Julius  Ccesar  was 
among  the  number.  Yet  Alexander's  play  presents  no 
evidence  of  a  study  of  Shakespeare's  tragedy.  Similarities 
of  language  and  of  matter  may  be  all  explained  by  refer- 
ence to  the  original  authorities  from  which  both  poets 
borrowed.  There  are  few  things  in  literary  history  more 
surprising  than  this  picture  of  mediocrity  cheerfully  and 
confidently  steering  its  own  course  across  the  track  of 
genius,  choosing  the  same  subject  but  handling  it  quite 

^  It  is  said  by  Collier,  in  his  Shakespeare,  that  there  was  an  earlier 
edition  in  1604. 


1 3  8  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

differently,  and  to  all  appearance  placidly  assured  of 
superiority.  Had  Sir  William  Alexander  been  weak- 
minded,  the  point  would  hardly  have  deserved  notice. 
But,  though  little  of  a  poet,  he  was  a  man  far  above  the 
average  in  natural  endowment,  and  familiar  from  boyhood 
with  the  study  of  literary  form  and  the  art  of  expression. 

The  rest  of  Alexander's  works  are  partly  political,  like 
the  Tragedies,  partly  religious.  To  the  former  class  be- 
longs the  Paracfiesis  to  Prince  He?iry,  a  poem  of  consider- 
able length  on  the  duties  of  a  king.  It  has  been  extrava- 
gantly praised;  but  the  grounds  of  the  panegyric  are  hard 
to  discover.  There  is  evidence  of  considerable  learning, 
of  keen  intelligence,  and  on  the  whole  of  more  independ- 
ence of  mind  than  was  to  be  expected  from  a  courtier 
in  the  court  of  James.  But  independence  of  mind  which 
expresses  itself  in  generalities  is  comparatively  inoffensive ; 
and  the  strongest  of  Alexander's  utterances  are  not  to  be 
compared  with  what  James  had  been  accustomed  to  hear 
in  his  native  country.  The  power  which  the  Paraenesis 
shows  is  however  not  of  a  poetic  character.  The  piece  is 
in  fact  a  treatise  perversely  thrown  into  metrical  form.  This 
offence  was  one  which  was  committed  by  all  the  so-called 
philosophical  poets  of  the  time  as  well  as  by  Alexander ; 
and  it  brought  upon  them  this  retribution,  that  having 
wilfully  confused  the  boundaries  of  the  two  forms  of  com- 
position, when  they  did  choose  a  poetic  subject  they  were 
never  safe  from  lapsing  into  prose. 

The  pieces  into  which  the  element  of  religion  enters 
largely  are  two  in  number  :  an  unfinished  heroic  poem, 
Jonathan,  which  relates  the  story  of  the  relief  of  Jabesh 
by  Saul ;   and  another  poem  called  Doomesday,  which  in 


POETS  OF  THE  XVIIth  CENTURY.  139 

length  almost  rivals  the  other  works  of  its  author  col- 
lectively and  in  dreariness  surpasses  all.  It  is  divided 
into  twelve  "hours,"  and  contains  some  10,000  or  11,000 
lines.  Beginning  with  a  sort  of  sketch  of  the  world's 
spiritual  history,  it  goes  on  to  describe  the  judgment,  and 
ends  with  a  picture  of  the  tortures  of  the  damned  and 
the  happiness  of  the  blest.  It  is  crude,  seldom  vigorous, 
and  hardly  ever  poetic.  There  is  a  great  show  of  learning  j 
for  to  describe  the  multitude  gathered  for  judgment  the 
poet  ransacks  not  only  Scripture  but  secular  history  and 
mythology  as  well.  The  history  however  is  not  always 
accurate,  and  is  rarely  informed  with  imagination  ;  the 
theology  is  rather  orthodox  than  enlightened.  "  Lycurgus, 
Minos,  Solon,  and  the  rest,"  who  "heavenly  wits  to  worldly 
ways  did  wrest,"  fare  badly.  In  a  word,  the  whole  poem 
is  the  laborious  production  of  a  man  who  had  set  himself 
a  task  for  which  he  was  wholly  unfitted.  To  have  done 
it  well  would  have  required  a  powerful  imagination,  which 
Alexander  did  not  possess.  He  presents  the  reader  with 
no  pictures,  only  a  series  of  catalogues — a  catalogue  of  the 
souls  judged,  a  catalogue  of  the  tortures  of  the  damned, 
a  catalogue  of  the  joys  of  heaven. 

A  review  of  Alexander's  works,  as  a  whole,  leads  then  to 
the  conclusion  that  he  was  a  man  who  mistook  his  vocation. 
It  would  be  easy  to  turn  his  verse  into  utter  ridicule ;  there 
needs  but  a  reference  to  the  absurd  inflation  of  the  lines 
beginning  "  No  corpulent  sanguinians  make  me  feare,"  and 
a  comparison  of  Shakespeare's  treatment  of  the  same 
passage  in  North's  Plutarch,  "  Let  me  have  men  about  me 
that  are  fat,"  etc.  But  the  student  of  Elizabethan  literature, 
knowing  how  uneven  is  the  work  of  men  much  greater  than 


140  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

Alexander,  will  be  wary  of  receiving  impressions  from  single 
passages.    Though  nature  never  meant  him  for  a  poet,  he  had 
sufficient  fancy  to  sustain  him  in  a  short  flight ;  and  practice 
might  have  given  him  some  share  of  that  exquisiteness  ot 
expression   which    the   lyric   and    the   sonnet  imperatively 
demand.     It  would  never  have  given  his  harder  mind  that 
misty,  dreamy  idealism   which    is  the   great  charm    of  his 
friend    Drummond    of    Ha\vthornden.      Alexander's    best 
work  is  contained  in  the  Aurora,  and  in  occasional   bits 
of    the    tragic    choruses.     In     1637     he    republished    his 
works  under  the  title  of  Recreations  tvith  the  Muses;  but,  for 
some  obscure  cause,  Aurora  was  omitted.     The  reason  may 
have  been  some  fact  in  the  poet's  life,  though  the  sonnets 
do  not  read  as  if  any  real  passion  lay  beneath  the  poetical 
expression  ;  or  it  may  have  been  that  they  scarcely  har- 
monised in  tone  with  the  Tragedies  and  Doomesday ;   but 
probably  the  true   secret   of  the  exclusion   was   that   the 
author  considered  these  light  love-poems  unworthy  of  him. 
Ambition,  combined  with  the  precept  and  example  of  his 
royal  master,  led  him  to  attempt  what  he  considered  loftier 
subjects,  and  to  seek  a  place  among  the  philosophic  poets. 
On  those  high  themes  "  he  numbrous  notes  with  measured 
fury  frames" — for   it    is    thus    that   he   unconsciously,   but 
with    too  sure  a   hand,   describes  a   style  which  is   really 
his  own. 

Of  the  followers  of  such  a  leader,  the  satellites  of  such  a 
poetical  luminary,  not  much  was  to  be  expected.  One  of 
them.  Sir  David  Murray  of  Gorthy,  trod  in  his  life  pretty 
closely  in  the  footsteps  of  Lord  Stirling.  He  too  deserted 
Scotland  for  the  fatter  English  pastures,  became  attached  to 
the  household  of  Prince  Henry,  and  sought  to  climb  into 


POETS  OF  THE  XVIIth  CENTURY.  141 

the  royal  favour  by  way  of  Parnassus.  His  works  are  all 
on  the  orthodox  lines.  We  have  a  series  of  about  twenty 
sonnets,  irregular,  but  sometimes  rather  prettily  fanciful,  to 
a  lady  named  Celia.  There  is  also  a  larger  and  more  am- 
bitious poem  on  The  Tragicall  death  of  Sophonisba,  wherein 
Sophonisba  is  compared  to  Sidney's  "  faire,  faire  Philoclea." 
The  name  of  Murray's  heroine  is  of  \\\  omen  to  Scottish 
poets.  "  O  Sophonisba,  Sophonisba,  O  ! "  was  the  line 
which  damned  Thomson's  luckless  tragedy  ;  and  the  ex- 
clamation might  well  be  turned  against  the  earlier  poet. 
His  Sophonisba  is  tedious,  inflated,  and  verbose.  He  had 
not  the  power  to  write  a  poem  of  any  length,  though  he  had 
a  certain  knack  which  serves  well  enough  in  shorter  pieces 
— provided  his  readers  will  consent  to  dispense  with  ideas, 
for  Murray  is  a  mere  imitator. 

Another  contemporary  was  Alexander  Craig,  "  Scoto- 
Britane,"  as  he  styles  himself,  the  author  of  Poetical 
Essays,  Poetical  Recreatiojis,  and  Amorous  Songs,  Sonets, 
and  Elegies.  Like  Stirling  and  Murray  he  strove,  but  at  a 
greater  distance  and  with  less  success,  to  find  his  interest  in 
the  fortunes  of  James.  There  is  something  pathetic  in  the 
way  in  which  the  poor  poet,  animated  by  hope  scantily 
gratified,  but  never  extinguished,  seizes  every  occasion  that 
may  recommend  him  at  court.  In  truth  Craig's  lines  did 
not  deserve  much  ;  yet  the  numerous  classical  allusions 
might  have  won  the  favour  of  a  somewhat  pedantic  scholar ; 
and  the  praise  of  the  sovereign,  who  is  now  Apollo,  now  a 
godly  David,  "  a  prophet  and  prince,"  must  have  given 
some  pleasure  to  ears  greedy  of  praise  and  not  fastidious  as 
to  its  quality. 

Sir   Robert   Ayton,   elegant  courtier   and    accomplished 


142  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

gentleman,  is  less  bulky  in  his  verse  than  any  of  these  men, 
but  more  poetical.  Fortune  smiled  upon  him  from  his 
birth.  He  had  the  best  education  his  native  country  could 
afford,  improved  afterwards  by  residence  in  France;  he  held 
an  honourable  position  at  Court,  acting  as  secretary  first 
to  Anne  of  Denmark,  and  afterwards  to  Henrietta  Maria; 
and  as  a  mark  of  the  royal  favour — not  much  of  a  dis- 
tinction at  that  time — he  was  knighted.  Thus  Ayton  had 
from  his  position  abundant  opportunity  to  learn  all  that 
belonged  to  the  ro/e  of  the  fine  gentleman.  Among  the 
rest  he  learned  to  perfection  the  mode  of  writing  appro- 
priate to  the  character — to  such  perfection  indeed  that  he 
could  soon  instruct  his  teachers.  He  was  one  of  the  first 
who  wrote  in  what  we  are  accustomed  to  call  the  Cavalier 
manner.  He  has  all  the  grace  and  light-hearted  airiness  of 
the  Cavalier,  and  he  has  also  the  under-current  of  earnest- 
ness, of  sincerity,  and  of  loyalty  to  his  mistress  and  his  sove- 
reign which  saves  the  Cavalier  from  the  charge  of  mere 
trifling.  Dryden  did  not  exaggerate  when  he  said  that  some 
of  Ayton's  verses  were  among  the  best  of  that  age.^  At  his 
best  he  is  worthy  to  rank  with  any  of  the  Cavalier  poets. 
But  unfortunately,  as  he  resembled  them  in  other  points,  so 
he  did  also  in  irregularity.  As  an  author  he  is  quite  irre- 
sponsible ;  his  pieces  are  merely  fugitive,  and  they  are  few 
in  number.  Perhaps  this  is,  after  all,  not  a  matter  for 
regret.  Those  who  are  spiritually  of  kin  to  Ayton  are 
essentially  fitful,  strangely  felicitous  in  their  most  careless 
verses,  but  dull  and  heavy  when  they  determine  to  make 
a  poem.  Among  Ayton's  writings  are  printed  some  verses 
on  "  Old  Acquaintance,"  interesting  in  connection  with 
'John  Aubrey  quoted  by  Wilson,  Scottish  Poets. 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI I th  CENTURY.  143 

Burns's  Auld  Lang  Syne;  but  their  authorship  is  disputed ; 
and  it  is  also  doubtful  whether  he  wrote  the  verses  be- 
ginning, "  I  do  confess  thou'rt  smooth  and  fair."  Perhaps 
the  finest  specimen  of  his  work  is  the  beautiful  piece,  On 
a   Wo/nan's  Inconstaticy : — 

"  I  lov'd  thee  once,   I'll  love  no  more, 
Thine  be  the  grief,  as  is  the  blame ; 
Thou  art  not  what  thou  wast  before, 
What  reason  I  should  be   the  same? 
He  that  can  love  unlov'd  again 
Hath  better  store  of  love  than  brain. 
God  send  me  love  my  debts  to  pay, 
While  unthrifts  fool  their  love  away. 

"  Nothing  could  have  my  love  o'erthrown, 
If  thou  had  still  continued  mine ; 
Yea,  if  thou  had  remained  thy  own, 

I  might,  perchance,  have  still  been  thine. 
But  thou  thy  freedom  did  recal 
That  if  thou  might  elsewhere  inthral ; 
And  then  how  could  I  but  disdain 
A  captive's  captive  to  remain. 

"  When  new  desires  had  conquered  thee, 
And  chang'd  the  object  of  thy  will, 
It  had  been  lethargy  in  me. 

No  constancy,  to  love  thee  still : 
Yea,  it  had  been  a  sin  to  go 
And  prostitute  affection  so, 

Since  we  are  taught  no  prayers  to  say 
To  such  as  must  to  others  pray. 

"Yet  do  thou  glory  in  thy  choice. 

Thy  choice  of  his  good  fortune  boast : 
I'll  neither  grieve  nor  yet  rejoice. 
To  see  him  gain  what  I  have  lost. 
The  height  of  my  disdain  shall  be 
To  laugh  at  him,  to  blush  for  thee, 
To  love  thee  still,  but  go  no  more 
A  begging  to  a  beggar's  door." 


144  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

The  imitative  poetry  here  described  continued  to  flourish, 
or  at  least  to  exist,  under  the  shelter  of  the  court,  until 
about  the  time  of  the  great  quarrel  between  King  and 
Parliament,  which,  as  it  affected  Scotland,  may  be  better 
described  as  the  quarrel  between  Presbytery  and  Epis- 
copacy. In  the  latter  part  of  this  period  of  nearly  forty 
years  however  the  connexion  with  the  court  was  very  much 
loosened.  The  Stuart  sovereigns  could  not  at  once  thrust 
off  the  poverty-stricken  following  of  their  countrymen ;  but 
they  were  from  the  first  ashamed  of  it,  and  the  kingly 
Charles  naturally  objected  to  it  more  strongly  than  his 
undignified  father.  Accordingly  we  find  that  though  the 
poets  continued  to  paint  the  universe  in  sunshine  when 
the  court  rejoiced  and  to  spread  it  with  pall  on  occasions 
of  gloom,  they  spoke  as  a  rule  from  a  distance,  whence 
they  were  probably  unheard  as  they  were  certainly  little 
heeded.  Rank  and  position  alone  could  save  a  man 
from  being  thus  elbowed  aside.  They  saved  the  great 
Montrose.  We  think  of  him  more  as  the  man  of  action 
than  the  man  ot  letters,  rather  as  the  hero  than  the 
hero's  vates  sacer.  He  was  both.  His  verses  are  unequal ; 
but  some  of  them  have  lived  in  the  minds  of  all  who  care 
for  poetry.  Montrose  was  the  ideal  cavalier,  complete  at 
all  points — the  hero  in  the  field,  the  statesman  in  the 
cabinet,  the  scholar  in  the  library,  the  accomplished  squire 
of  dames  in  his  lighter  moments.  He  is  the  only  Scottish 
successor  of  Ayton.  His  poems  are  so  few  that  it  almost 
requires  an  apology  to  rank  him  as  a  poet.  They  show 
too  that  uncertainty  of  touch  which  was  common  to  the 
Cavalier  poets  :  in  a  felicitous  moment  he  writes  exquisitely, 
in  a  less  happy  mood  he  sinks  almost  to  doggerel.     His 


POETS  OF  THE  XVIIth  CENTURY.  145 

best  known  lines  are  those  to  the  tune,  "I'll  never  love 
thee  more,"  and  they  illustrate  forcibly  this  irregularity. 
Some  of  the  stanzas  are  in  the  finest  style  of  the  cavalier 
love-lyric,  others  are  intolerably  frigid.  Mark  Napier,  the 
biographer  of  Montrose,  sees  in  the  whole,  not  a  set  of 
love-verses,  but  a  political  composition,  in  which  the 
speaker  is  Charles  and  the  mistress  is  the  State.  If  this 
opinion  is  right,  and  it  harmonises  well  enough  with  the 
taste  of  the  time  and  the  contents  of  the  poem,  the  harsh 
conceit  upon  which  it  is  based  must  be  regarded  as  a 
fundamental  defect  of  the  poem.  Nothing  however  can 
spoil  the  felicity  of  these  stanzas  : — 

"As  Alexander  I  will  reign, 

And  I  will  reign  alone ; 
My  thoughts  did  evermore  disdain 

A  rival  on  my  throne. 
He  either  fears  his  fate  too  much, 

Or  his  desert  is  small. 
That  dares  not  put  it  to  the  touch 

To  gain  or  lose  it  all. 


But  if  thou  wilt  prove  faithful  then, 

And  constant  to  thy  word, 
I'll  make  thee  glorious  by  my  pen, 

And  famous  by  my  sword ; 
I'll  serve  thee  in  such  noble  ways 

Was  never  heard  before ; 
I'll  crown  and  deck  thee  all  with  bayes, 

And  love  thee  more  and  more. 


The  golden  laws  of  love  shall  be 
Upon  those  pillars  hung: 

A  single  heart — a  simple  eye — 
A  true  and  constant  tongue, — 
K 


146  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

Let  no  man  to  more  love  pretend 

Than  he  has  hearts  in  store, — 
True  love  begun  will  never  end, — 

Love  one  and  love  no  more. 

In  the  lines  quoted  below  Montrose  appears  in  another 
mood.  They  are  chargeable  with  bombast;  but  it  is  a 
noble  bombast,  and  it  should  never  be  forgotten  that 
Montrose's  deeds  had  given  a  solid  foundation  to  his  most 
swelling  words.  What  would  be  ridiculous  excess  in  a 
common  man  is  moderation  in  the  mouth  of  the  hero  of 
Inverlochy  and  Kilsyth. 

On  Charles  L 

Great,  Good,  and  Just,  could  I  but  rate 

My  griefs  and  thy  too  rigide  fate, 

I'd  weep  the  world  to  such  a  straine 

As  it  should  once  deluge  again. 

But  since  thy  loud-tongued  blood  demands  supplies 

More  from  Briareus  hands  than  Argos  eyes, 

I'll  sing  thine  obsequies  with  trumpet  sounds, 

And  write  thine  Epitaphs  in  blood  and  wounds. 

Montrose's  place  as  a  poet  falls  chronologically  con- 
siderably later  than  that  of  the  men  who  have  been  pre- 
viously mentioned.  There  is  probability  in  the  conjecture 
of  Napier  that  his  verses  may  be  mostly  referred  to  the 
year  1642  when,  according  to  Baillie,  he  had  "for  this 
long  while  been  very  quiet."  There  are  still  a  few  to  be 
noticed  who  were  in  time  prior  to  him,  but  who  have 
been  postponed  as  less  intimately  connected  than  he  with 
the  court,  which  gives  the  tone  to  all  this  verse. 

One  of  these  was  George  Lauder,  a  man  sprung  of  a 
family  devoted  to  letters  and  gifted  with  genius ;  for  he 
was  grandson    of   Sir    Richard    Maitland    of    Lethington. 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI Ith  CENTURY.  147 

His  verse  possesses  the  spirit  of  his  family  and  of  his 
soldierly  profession ;  but  he  affects  a  pseudo-classical 
style  which  is  fatal  to  excellence,  and  it  takes  all  his 
vigour  and  all  his  qnaintness  to  win  pardon  for  his 
learning. 

Another  adventurer  of  a  different  type  was  Simion 
Grahame,  the  dark  saturnine  author  of  The  Anatomic  of 
Humours.  Grahame,  who  had  little  else  in  common  with 
his  contemporaries,  agreed  with  the  majority  of  them  in 
this,  that  he  owed  to  James  what  he  was,  and  looked  to 
him  for  what  he  hoped  to  be.  His  history  is  obscure. 
He  was  born  probably  in  Edinburgh  about  1570.  His 
family  must  have  had  influence  at  court,  for  he  was 
educated  under  royal  patronage ;  but  either  court  favour 
left  him  or  he  left  it.  His  early  manhood  was  spent  in 
travelling.  His  fortunes  however  were  bad,  and  his  life, 
it  would  seem,  not  much  better.  In  1604  we  find  him 
in  England,  doubtless  drawn  thither  by  James.  In  that 
year  he  published  The  Passionate  Sparke  of  a  Relenting 
Mind,  a  small  collection  of  verses  remarkable  only  for 
the  grandiloquent  and  highly  figurative  prose  dedication 
to  the  King,  conceived  in  a  spirit,  the  memory  of  which 
is  preserved  if  not  consecrated  by  the  dedication  of  the 
authorised  version  of  the  Bible.  Grahame's  much  more 
notable  work,  The  Anatomie  of  Humours,  appeared  five 
years  later,  inscribed  to  the  Earl  of  Montrose,  who  was 
also  a  Graham.  It  is  a  medley  of  often  forcible  prose 
and  of  generally  weak  verse.  Many  will  think  that  the 
most  memorable  thing  about  the  book  is  that  it  seems  to 
have  given  the  hint  to  Burton  for  his  Anatomie  of 
Melancholy.      Yet    Grahame's    Anatomie   is    a   work  of  no 


1 48  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

common  force,  though  it  is  repulsively  and  unnaturally 
gloomy.  The  humours  are  nearly  all  of  the  vicious  kind. 
In  the  author's  philosophy  of  human  nature  we  can  trace 
the  influence  of  his  wandering  life  and  the  bitterness  of 
his  own  experience.  There  are  numerous  pictures  of 
typical  characters,  some  of  them  indubitably  powerful  and 
possessing  that  species  of  attraction  which  belongs  to 
certain  kinds  of  horrors.  Such  for  example  are  the  char- 
acters of  the  quack  and  of  the  latter-meat  man  (the 
insignificant  person  for  whom  there  is  no  room  at  a 
great  man's  feast  and  who  waits  for  the  remains). 
Grahame's  further  pursuit  of  letters  was  cut  short  by  a 
renewed  exile,  and,  according  to  Dempster,  in  16 14  by 
death.  He  is  said  to  have  been  a  voluminous  author, 
but  he  is  now  known  only  by  the  two  works  mentioned. 
Neither  the  atmosphere  of  a  court  nor  the  life  of 
homeless  adventure  is  favourable  to  poetry ;  and  one  or 
other  was  the  lot  of  most  of  the  Scotchmen  who  cul- 
tivated the  art  in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeen  century. 
There  was  however  one  exception,  one  man  whose 
happier  star  preserved  him  from  the  evils  of  both,  and 
gave  him  just  those  surroundings  which  best  suited  his 
genius.  William  Drummond  was  the  son  of  a  Lothian 
laird  of  good  position.  He  was  born  13th  December, 
1585,  and  educated  at  the  High  School  and  University  of 
Edinburgh,  where  he  graduated  in  1605.  Soon  afterwards 
he  went  abroad  to  study  law;  but  in  1609  he  was  in 
Scotland  once  more ;  and  the  death  of  his  father  in  the 
following  year,  making  Drummond  master  of  a  com- 
petency, banished  from  his  mind  all  thoughts  of  seriously 
prosecuting  an  uncongenial    study.      He  retired    to    Haw- 


POETS  OF  THE  XVIIth  CENTURY.  1 49 

thornden,  the  domain  for  ever  associated  with  his  name 
and  memory,  the  "classic  Hawthornden  "  and  "caverned 
Hawthornden  "  of  later  poetry,  the  haunt  of  the  modern 
tourist  attracted  thither  partly  by  Drummond,  partly  by 
Scott,  partly  by  the  natural  beauty  which  charmed  both. 
The  place  might  have  been  made  by  the  gods  for  a  poet 
of  Drummond's  meditative,  romantic  temperament.  He 
felt  that  it  suited  him,  and  he  lived  there  for  many  years 
a  retired  life  whose  most  exciting  incidents  were  the  com- 
position and  publication  of  his  various  works.  The 
leisure  which  this  retirement  gave  him  prompted  Drum- 
mond to  those  voluminous  jottings  which  have  in  many 
points  proved  so  interesting  to  modern  inquirers.  Among 
the  rest  are  a  catalogue  of  his  library  soon  after  the 
death  of  his  father,  and  various  lists  of  the  books 
actually  read  by  the  owner  of  the  library  between  the 
years  1606-14.  They  are  worthy  of  notice  for  the  light 
they  throw  upon  Drummond's  mind  and  habits.  The 
books  marked  as  read  number  in  all  220,  including 
much  poetry,  both  English  and  French.  The  contents 
of  his  library  in  1610  were  267  Latin  books,  35  Greek, 
II  Hebrew,  61  Italian,  8  Spanish,  120  French,  50 
English — a  very  good  collection  for  a  country  gentleman 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  one  the  linguistic  pro- 
portions of  which  are  useful  to  remind  us  how  much  a 
library  of  two  or  three  centuries  ago  differed  from  a 
modern  one.^ 

For  two  years  Drummond  seems  to  have  read  and 
vaguely  meditated  without  visible  result.  He  would  prob- 
ably have  continued  to   do  so  longer  but  for   the   death 

'  These  details  are  taken  from  Professor  Masson's  Life  of  Dnantnoiid, 


I  5  O  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

of  Prince  Henry  in  1612,  an  event  which  set  almost  every 
Scottish  pen  scribbling,  and  a  good  many  English  to  boot. 
Teares  for  the  Death  of  Mceliades,  the  earliest  published  of 
Drummond's  works,  appeared  in  161 3.  It  is  a  piece  of 
about  two  hundred  lines,  of  little  interest  or  value  in  itself, 
but  graceful  and  full  of  promise.  It  brought  the  author 
into  poetic  contact  with  Sir  William  Alexander,  whose  piece 
on  the  same  subject  appeared  the  year  before.  Drummond 
shows  himself  from  the  outset  the  better  poet  of  the  two; 
but  the  fame  of  Alexander,  who  was  senior  both  as  man 
and  as  author,  was  so  much  better  established  that  when,  in 
16 14,  the  pair  met  at  Menstrie,  Drummond  felt  himself 
honoured  by  the  regard  of  his  fellow-poet.  It  is  to  the 
credit  of  Alexander  that  he  generously  recognised  the 
power  of  the  younger  man.  The  two  men  became  fast 
friends,  kept  up  a  literary  correspondence,  and  wrote 
sonnets  and  other  poetic  compliments  to  one  another 
under  the  names  of  Damon  and  Alexis. 

A  more  important  event  in  Drummond's  life,  the  most 
important  perhaps  of  all  for  literature,  was  his  meeting 
with  a  daughter  of  Cunningham  of  Barns,  which  seems  to 
have  taken  place  about  this  time.  He  fell  in  love  with  the 
lady,  wooed  and  won  lier ;  the  marriage  day  was  fixed,  but 
before  it  came  she  died  of  a  fever.  Drummond's  genuine 
and  deep  affection  for  her  and  the  tragic  close  of  their  love 
had  a  profound  effect  upon  his  poetry.  It  strengthened 
and  confirmed  the  melancholy  which,  implanted  by  nature, 
had  been  nourished  by  the  quietude  of  Hawthornden.  It 
fed  his  mystic  idealism  ;  it  gave  him,  both  during  the  lady's 
life  and  after  she  was  dead,  a  real  subject  for  his  muse;  and 
thus  it  did  much  to  save  him  from  that  tendency  to  conceits 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI Ith  CENTURY.  151 

which  was  creeping  like  a  canker  into  English  poetry. 
This  passion  is  the  source  of  nearly  all  the  poet's  next  pub- 
lication, the  Poems:  Amorous,  Funeral!,  Divine,  Pastor  all, 
etc.,  which  was  issued  in  161 6.  These  poems  are  Drum- 
mond's  most  valuable  contribution  to  literature.  The  series 
of  pieces  commemorating  his  love  is  divided  into  two  parts, 
one  prior,  the  other  subsequent  to  her  death.  Together 
they  contain  most  of  what  is  truly  excellent  in  the  author's 
poetry ;  only  occasionally  in  later  years  did  he  rise  as  high. 
His  favourite  measure,  and  that  in  which  he  was  most  suc- 
cessful, was  the  sonnet,  not  always  constructed  on  the  strict 
Italian  model,  but  generally  approximating  to  it,  and 
showing  more  regard  for  its  rules  and  spirit  than  most  o 
the  English  sonnets  loosely  so  called  of  the  age  of  Elizabeth 
The  best  of  Drummond's  pieces  entitle  him  to  a  place  in 
the  first  rank  of  English  sonneteers  ;  and  it  is  to  be 
wondered  that  he  has  not,  in  virtue  of  these  exquisite 
poems,  taken  a  higher  place  in  the  rolls  of  literature. 
A  few  specimens  will  give  the  best  idea  of  the  grace 
and  harmonious  beauty  of  Drummond's  verse.  The  first 
embodies  a  conception  never  long  absent  from  his 
mind,  and  here  prettily  turned  to  account  to  celebrate 
his  love  : — 

"That  learned  Grecian,  who  did  so  excel 
In  knowledge  passing  sense,  that  he  is  nam'd 
Of  all  the  after-worlds  divine,  doth  tell, 
That  at  the  time  when  first  our  souls  are  fram'd, 
Ere  in  these  mansions  blind  they  come  to  dwell, 
They  live  bright  rays  of  that  eternal  light, 
And  others  see,  know,  love,  in  heaven's  great  height, 
Not  toil'd  with  aught  to  reason  doth  rebel. 
Most  true  it  is,  for  straight  at  the  first  sight 


1 5  2  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

My  mind  me  told,  that  in  some  other  place 
It  elsewhere  saw  the  idea  of  that  face, 
And  lov'd  a  love  of  heavenly  pure  delight ; 
No  wonder  now  I  feel  so  fair  a  flame, 
Sith  I  her  lov'd  ere  on  this  earth  she  came." 

It  is  however  in  the  second  part,  where  he  laments  the 
death  of  his  mistress,  that  Drummond  is  at  his  best.  There 
are  perhaps  no  sonnets  in  it  which  can  be  pronounced 
decisively  superior  to  one  or  two  in  the  former  part,  but 
it  contains  a  much  greater  proportion  of  excellent  work. 
The  poet  generally  chooses  to  approach  the  subject  of  his 
love  indirectly,  but  the  following  is  expressly  devoted  to 
it:— 

"  Sweet  soul,  which  in  the  April  of  thy  years 
So  to  enrich  the  heaven  mad'st  poor  this  round, 
And  now  with  golden  rays  of  glory  crown'd 
Most  blest  abid'st  above  the  sphere  of  spheres  ; 
If  heavenly  laws,  alas  !  have  not  thee  bound 
From  looking  to  this  globe  that  all  upbears, 
If  ruth  and  pity  there  above  be  found, 
O  deign  to  lend  a  look  unto  those  tears. 
Do  not  disdain,  dear  ghost,  this  sacrifice. 
And  though  I  raise  not  pillars  to  thy  praise, 
Mine  offerings  take  ;  let  this  for  me  suffice. 
My  heart  a  living  pyramid  I  raise  ; 

And  whilst  kings'  tombs  with  laurels  flourish  green 
Thine  shall  with  myrtle  and  these  flowers  be  seen." 

This  again  illustrates  Drummond's  feeling  for  nature  and 
the  manner  in  which  he  wove  it  in  with  the  idea  of 
his  love : — 

"  Sweet  Spring,  thou  turn'st  with  all  thy  goodly  train, 
Thy  head  with  flames,  thy  mantle  bright  with  flowers ; 
The  zephyrs  curl  the  green  locks  of  the  plain, 
The  clouds  for  joy  in  pearls  weep  down  their  show'rs. 
Thou  turn'st,  sweet  youth,  but,  ah  !  my  jjleasant  hours 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI I th  CENTURY.  153 

And  happy  days  with  thee  come  not  again  ; 

The  sad  memorials  only  of  my  pain 

Do  with  thee  turn,   which  turn  my  sweet  in  sours. 

Thou  art  the  same  which  still  thou  wast  before, 

Delicious,  wanton,  amiable,  fair  ; 

But  she,  whose  breath  embalm'd  thy  wholesome  air. 

Is  gone  ;  nor  gold,  nor  gems,  her  can  restore. 
Neglected  virtue,  seasons  go  and  come, 
While  thine  forgot  lie  closed  in  a  tomb." 

But  though  Drummond  is  happiest  in  the  sonnet,  he 
can  manage  other  measures  with  effect.  The  following 
song  reads  Hke  Herrick  at  his  best,  though  it  is  more 
serious  than  Herrick  generally  is  : — 

"O  Pan,  Pan,  winter  is  fallen  in  our  May, 
Turn'd  is  in  night  our  day  ; 
Forsake  thy  pipe,  a  sceptre  take  to  thee. 
Thy  locks  disgarland,  thou  black  Jove  shalt  be. 
Thy  flocks  do  leave  the  meads. 

And,  loathing  three-leav'd  grass,  hold  up  their  heads ; 
The  streams  not  glide  now  with  a  gentle  roar. 
Nor  birds  sing  as  before  ; 

Hills  stand  with  clouds,  like  mourners,  veil'd  in  black. 
And  owls  on  cabin  roofs  foretel  our  wrack. 

That  zephyr  every  year 
So  soon  was  heard  to  sigh  in  forests  here. 
It  was  for  her ;  that  wrapt  in  gowns  of  green. 
Meads  were  so  early  seen. 

That  in  the  saddest  months  oft  sung  the  merles. 
It  was  for  her ;  for  her  trees  dropt  forth  pearls. 
That  proud  and  stately  courts 
Did  envy  those  our  shades,  and  calm  resorts, 
It  was  for  her ;  and  she  is  gone,  O  woe  ! 
Woods  cut  again  do  grow. 
Bud  doth  the  rose  and  daisy,  winter  done, 
But  we,  once  dead,  no  more  do  see  the  sun." 

In   his    later   poetry   Drummond    is   on    the  whole  less 


1 5  4  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

successful.  The  Florvers  of  Sion,  published  in  1623  along 
with  the  Cyprcsse  Grove,  contains  indeed  some  fine  pieces, 
one  of  which,  the  sonnet  For  the  Baptist,  may  be  quoted  as 
illustrating  a  side  of  the  poet's  mind  and  work  which  is 
barely  represented  in  the  earlier  poems  : — 

"  The  last  and  greatest  herald  of  heaven's  King, 
Girt  with  rough  skins,  hies  to  the  deserts  wild, 
Among  that  savage  brood  the  woods  forth  bring, 
Which  he  than  man  more  harmless  found  and  mild  : 
His  food  was  locusts,  and  what  young  doth  spring, 
With  honey  that  from  virgin  hives  distill'd ; 
Parch'd  body,  hollow  eyes,  some  uncouth  thing 
Made  him  appear  long  since  from  earth  exil'd. 
There  burst  he  forth  :  '  All  ye,  whose  hopes  rely 
On  God,  with  me  amidst  these  deserts  mourn ; 
Repent,  repent,  and  from  old  errors  turn.' 
Who  listen'd  to  his  voice,  obey'd  his  cry? 
Only  the  echoes  which  he  made  relent. 
Rung  from  their  marble  caves,   '  Repent,  Repent  ! ' " 

As  a  rule  however  the  ideas  of  the  later  poems  are  but 
repetitions  of  those  contained  in  the  earlier,  a  fact  which 
points  to  the  conclusion  that  Drummond's  powers,  though 
exquisite,  were  narrow  in  their  range.  This  criticism  is 
essentially  true  of  the  fine  Hymn  of  the  Ascension:  it  is  still 
more  true  of  the  Hymn  of  the  Fairest  Fair,  a  characteristic 
poem  embodying  its  author's  philosophy  of  the  universe. 
For  the  rest,  Drummond's  poems  include  a  collection  of 
epigrams  and  madrigals,  some  clear,  some  coarse,  few 
remarkable ;  a  number  of  miscellaneous  pieces,  some  of 
which  are  interesting  for  their  bearing  on  contemporary 
literature;  and  a  collection  of  posthumous  poems,  many 
of  them  relating  to  the  politics  of  his  time,  but  otherwise 
of  little  value.     There  is  also  ascribed  to  Drummond  the 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI Ith  CENTURY.  I  55 

curious  and  amusing  macaronic  poem,  Polemo-Middinia, 
to  which  his  name  was  first  attached  in  the  edition 
published  at  Oxford  in  1691  under  the  editorship  of 
Gibson,  subsequently  Bishop  of  London  The  first 
edition  known,  which  was  published  at  Edinburgh  in  1584, 
was  anonymous ;  and  there  is  no  evidence  except  tradition 
to  connect  Drummond  with  a  composition  utterly  foreign 
to  his  usual  tone  and  habit  of  mind. 

Meanwhile  the  fame  of  Drummond  was  steadily  grow- 
ing and  his  reputation  becoming  established  as  the  first 
man  of  letters  in  Scotland.  The  visit  of  James  to  his 
ancient  kingdom  in  16 17  gave  the  poet  a  fresh  opportunity 
of  playing  the  courtier,  and  the  result  of  his  labours  was 
the  poem,  Forth  Feasting.  It  is  startling  to  find  the 
pacific,  not  to  say  cowardly  sovereign  described  as  the 
"  Mars-daunting  King " ;  but  if  the  adulation  is  gross,  it 
is  no  worse  than  that  of  others  in  Drummond's  genera- 
tion and  the  preceding  one.  The  poets  at  that  time  seem 
to  have  differed  chiefly,  not  in  independence,  but  in  the 
degrees  of  ingenuity  with  which  their  flattery  was  bestowed ; 
and  in  this  respect  Drummond  stands  high.  None  of 
the  poems  composed  upon  the  occasion  of  this  visit  can 
rival  Forth  Feasting.  Its  rhymed  decasyllabic  lines  are 
smooth,  polished,  and  pointed  to  a  degree  which  at 
times  almost  anticipates  Pope.  The  whole  is  skilful  and 
full  of  fancy,  and  the  close  is  really  eloquent. 

Towards  the  close  of  16 18,  or  in  the  beginning  of  16 19, 
occurred  that  visit  from  Ben  Jonson  which  has  given  rise 
to  endless  controversy  with  regard  to  Drummond's 
character.  The  admirers  of  Jonson  accuse  the  Scottish 
poet    of  playing   the    spy   upon   and    traducing   the   great 


IS6  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

dramatist  who  was  his  guest  and  who  opened  his  heart 
in  the  confidence  of  friendship.  It  cannot  be  denied 
that  the  character  at  the  end  of  the  conversations  is  un- 
generously drawn,  but  the  conversations  themselves  are 
sufficiently  innocent.  There  is  no  evidence,  nor  likelihood, 
that  they  were  meant  for  publication ;  nor  were  they 
published  till  long  after  the  writer's  death.  It  is  no 
doubt  an  uncomfortable  reflection  for  great  men  that  their 
most  confidential  and  least  considered  remarks  may  be 
set  down  in  a  permanent  record ;  and  perhaps  it  would  be 
wiser  on  the  part  of  the  listener  to  think  that  he  has  no 
right  to  take  notes  of  conversations.  But  he  who  does  so 
is  not  necessarily  a  traitor.  The  bitterness  of  Drummond's 
own  remarks  on  Jonson  is  probably  due  to  the  angularities 
of  that  rough  and  massive  character  fretting  a  disposition 
retired,  delicate,  and  somewhat  finical.  Silence  would 
have  been  in  better  taste  ;  but  to  take  private  notes  and 
to  add,  perhaps  in  a  moment  of  pique,  an  estimate  of 
character,  is  not  a  grave  offence.  Giftbrd,  in  his  zeal 
for  Jonson,  exaggerated  the  fault  of  Drummond. 

Shortly  after  the  publication  of  the  Flowers  of  Sion 
the  life  of  Drummond  seems  to  have  undergone  a  change. 
Little  is  known  about  him  until  in  1626  we  find  him  un- 
expectedly amongst  inventors  ;  and,  being  a  man  of  peace, 
he  must  needs  contrive  instruments  of  war.  In  1627  he 
obtained  a  patent  for  the  construction  of  a  variety  of 
military  engines,  and  appears  to  have  given  much  attention 
to  these  projects.  The  poetic  Paraeneticon  which  he 
wrote  for  Sir  Thomas  Kellie's  military  treatise,  Pallas 
Armata,  shows  that  his  interest  in  such  matters  was  not 
limited    to    his    own   devices.      In    16^2    he   married.      A 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI Ith  CENTURY.  I  57 

political  paper  written  in  the  same  year  on  the  subject 
of  the  earldom  of  Stratherne,  and  some  pieces  in  verse 
occasioned  by  the  visit  of  Charles  I.  to  Scotland  in  1633, 
seemed  to  hold  out  some  faint  promise  of  a  return  to 
literary  interests.  The  disturbances,  however,  which  arose 
shortly  after  this  visit  proved  an  effectual  and  permanent 
barrier  to  Drummond's  converse  with  the  muses.  He 
continued  indeed  to  write  occasional  verses,  but  never 
afterwards  gave  his  whole  mind  to  poetry,  and  never  pro- 
duced anything  quite  worthy  of  his  earlier  promise.  He 
wrote  mostly  in  prose  and  upon  politics,  in  the  interest 
of  the  royalist  party.  Among  these  prose  works  is  an 
ambitious  and  high-flown  essay  entitled  Irefie,  described 
on  the  title-page  as  "a  remonstrance  for  concord,  amity, 
and  love,  amongst  his  Majesty's  subjects."  A  more 
sustained  work  is  the  History  of  the  Lives  and  Reigns  of 
the  Five  James's.  It  was  finished  about  1644,  but  not 
published  till  eleven  years  later.  Drummond  wrote  nothing 
more  of  moment,  and  died  in  1649. 

The  prose  of  Drummond  does  not  fall  within  the  subject 
of  this  essay ;  and  all  that  he  wrote  in  those  years  of  tur- 
moil may  be  passed  over  without  criticism.  There  is 
however  an  earlier  essay,  which,  though  prose  in  form, 
has  so  much  of  the  spirit  of  poetry  that  it  ought  to  be 
mentioned  here.  This  is  the  Cypresse  Grove,  already  men- 
tioned as  having  been  published  along  with  the  Floivers 
of  Sion.  In  this,  unquestionably  the  most  perfect  specimen 
of  Drummond's  prose,  the  author  happily  follows  the  bent 
of  his  own  mind,  unburdened  by  any  practical  purpose.  It 
is  an  essay  on  death,  written  in  the  spirit  of  Plato  and 
ending  in  a  dream  corresponding   to  the  Platonic  myth. 


I  5  8  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

A  number  of  particular  hints  are  borrowed  from  Bacon's 
essay  on  Death ;  one  passage  may  be  traced  to  Ben 
Jonson's  well-known  lines,  "  It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree  " ; 
and  others  to  other  writers  of  the  time.  But  Drummond 
has  made  the  thoughts  his  own,  and  has  woven  them  into 
a  prose  style  often  beautiful,  and  at  its  highest  quite  equal 
to  the  best  of  his  poetry.  The  essay  however  as  a  whole 
is  uneven.  The  language  is  at  times  laboured  to  a  degree 
almost  painful,  the  imagery  is  frequently  overwrought,  and 
sometimes  degenerates  into  conceits.  The  following  passage 
is  a  specimen  of  Drummond  at  his  best : — 

"  If  on  the  great  Theatre  of  this  Earth  amongst  the 
numberless  Number  of  men.  To  dy  were  only  proper  to 
thee  and  thine,  then  undoubtedly  thou  hadst  reason  to 
repine  at  so  severe  and  partial  a  Law  :  But  since  it  is  a 
Necessity,  from  which  never  any  Age  by-past  hath  been 
exempted,  and  unto  which  they  which  be,  and  so  many 
as  are  to  come,  are  thralled  (no  Consequent  of  Life  being 
more  common  and  familiar),  why  shouldst  thou  with  un- 
profitable and  nought-availing  Stubbornness,  oppose  so  in- 
evitable and  necessary  a  Condition  ?  This  is  the  High-way 
of  Mortality  and  our  general  Home  :  Behold  what  millions 
have  trod  it  before  thee,  what  Multitudes  shall  after  thee, 
with  them  which  at  that  same  Instant  run.  In  so  universal 
a  Calamity  (if  Death  be  one)  private  Complaints  cannot 
be  heard  :  With  so  many  Royal  Palaces,  it  is  no  loss  to 
see  thy  poor  Cabin  burn.  Shall  the  Heavens  stay  their 
ever-rolling  wheels  (for  what  is  the  motion  of  them  but 
the  motion  of  a  swift  and  ever-whirling  wheel,  which  twineth 
forth,  and  again  uprolleth  our  Life)  and  hold  still  Time 
to  prolong  thy  miserable  Days,  as  if  the  highest  of  their 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI Ith  CENTURY.  159 

Working  were  to  do  Homage  unto  thee?  Thy  Death  is 
a  Pace  of  the  Order  of  this  All,  a  Part  of  the  Life  of 
this  World;  for  while  the  World  is  the  World,  some 
Creatures  must  dy,  and  others  take  life." 

This  piece  strengthens  the   impression   derived   from   a 
study  of  the  poems,  that  while  Drummond  was  to  a  rare 
degree  perfect  within  his  own  limits,  his  range  was  narrow. 
It  is  further  evident  that  there  was  a  certain  effeminacy 
about  his  mind  which  made  him   largely   the  creature  of 
circumstance.     The  conditions  of  his  life  were  long  favour- 
able to  his  genius;  and  even  in  his  later  days  the  distrac- 
tions under  which  he  personally  suffered  would  not  have 
checked  the  productiveness  of  a  robuster  genius  ;  for  he  was 
not,  like  Milton,  a  participant  in  the  stormy  events  of  the 
time.     But   Drummond  was  a  hot-house  plant,  and  even 
a  slight  breath  of  untempered  air  shrivelled  him  up.     Prob- 
ably however  there  is  little  to  regret  in  the  fact  that  his 
best  poetry  was  all  written  before  he  was  thirty.     It  may 
be  doubted  whether  he  could  have  done  much  more  than 
repeat  what  he  had  already  said.     There  would  have  been 
under  other  conditions  more  sonnets,  sweet,  musical,  and 
melancholy,  perhaps  more  essays  on  themes  of  mysticism ; 
but  there  would  have  been  no  great  poem.      For  a  short 
flight  Drummond  can  scarcely  be  surpassed,  but  his  wing 
soon  tires.      His   most  felicitous  strokes  are  often  single 
lines  3  as  in   the  epithets  of  spring  in  one  of  the  sonnets 
already   quoted,   "  Delicious,   wanton,   amiable,  fair " ;    or, 
from  another  sonnet,   "The  stately  comeliness   of  forests 
old."      Such    lines    combine    artistic    skill    with    truth    of 
description. 

It   is  worthy   of  remark  that   both  these  specimens   of 


1 60  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

Drummond's  happiest  art  have  reference  to  external  nature. 
Whether  it  was  due  to  his  long  retirement  at  Hawthornden 
or  not  may  be  hard  to  say,  but  the  fact  is  certain  that  he 
had  a  truer,  more  sensitive,  and  more  catholic  taste  in 
regard  to  natural  scenes  than  any  of  his  contemporaries, 
English  or  Scotch.  Professor  Veitch  has  remarked  that 
he  was  the  first  to  find  beauty  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
of  natural  objects,  a  snow-clad  mountain.  And  while  he 
did  not  shrink  from  aspects  of  nature  associated  with 
ideas  of  cold  and  physical  discomfort,  he  revelled  in  those 
which  call  up  more  pleasant  reminiscences.  Probably  his 
references  to  nature  would  be  regarded  by  some  critics  as 
artificial.  But  they  are  artificial  only  in  the  sense  of  being 
the  work  of  a  painstaking  artist,  who  does  not  permit  his 
art  to  degenerate  into  artifice  or  to  interfere  with  truth. 

It  is  not  now  difficult  to  characterise  the  poetry  ol  the 
first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century.  It  is  in  the  first 
place  not  Scotch  at  all,  except  in  the  sense  that  the 
authors  of  it  were  born  in  Scotland.  There  were  a  few 
writers  of  the  time,  like  Sir  William  Mure  of  Rowallan, 
who  retained  some  flavour  of  the  soil ;  but  native  Scottish 
poetry  during  almost  the  whole  of  the  century  was  as 
near  as  possible  extinct.  Among  the  Anglicised  writers 
there  were  several  of  more  than  respectable  gifts ;  but  only 
one,  Drummond,  whose  achievements  entitle  him  to  a  high 
rank  among  poets.  Even  in  him  there  is  not  sufficient 
vigour  to  win  for  him  a  place  among  the  greatest.  Like 
most  imitative  literature,  the  work  of  these  men  is  essen- 
tially second-rate.  The  force  of  the  older  poetry  had  been 
lost  along  with  its  rudeness.  But  later  on  even  this 
imitative  work  also  dwindled  away,  and  it  was  not  replaced 


POETS  OF  THE  XVI Ith  CENTURY.  l6l 

by  anything  original.  The  period  from  the  beginning  of 
the  Civil  War  to  the  Revolution  was  the  most  barren  in 
the  annals  of  Scottish  literature.  Poetry  almost  disap- 
peared. In  prose  the  activity  was  purely  theological ;  and, 
though  Leighton  is  a  noble  exception,  the  theology  was 
generally  of  an  inferior  character. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    POPULAR   BALLADS. 

Just  upon  the  eve  of  the  union  of  the  ParUaments  there 
issued  from  the  printing  press  of  James  Watson  of  Edinburgh 
the  first  part  of  a  work  of  comparatively  humble  pretensions, 
but  of  great  significance.  It  was  entitled  A  Choice  Colkctioti 
of  Comic  and  Serious  Scots  Foe?}is,  both  Aticicnt  a?id  Modern. 
The  three  parts  of  which  it  ultimately  consisted  were  pub- 
lished in  the  years  1706,  1709,  and  1711.  The  contents 
range  from  genuinely  beautiful  poetry  down  to  something 
little  better  than  doggerel.  They  consist  partly  of  speci- 
mens of  popular  poetry,  the  ballads  and  songs  current 
throughout  the  coimtry,  partly  of  the  effusions  of  more 
learned  poets.  It  is  the  former  class  of  pieces  which  gives 
to  the  collection  its  peculiar  importance.  We  find  in  it 
the  first  evidence  in  Scotland  of  an  interest  in  such  matters 
sufficiently  wide  to  justify  a  commercial  venture;  and  the 
spread  of  this  interest  may  be  taken  as  one  of  the  proofs 
of  the  gradual  lightening  of  the  theological  yoke  which 
had  pressed  so  heavily  upon  literature  during  the  previous 
century.  Doubtless  it  was  partly  due  also  to  English 
example.  Scotch  music,  Scotch  songs,  and  Scotch  ballads 
had    become   popular   in    London ;    and    Durfey   and    his 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  1 63 

brethren  did  their  best  to  supply  the  demand  by  imita- 
tions. Their  imitations  won  acceptance  not  only  in  Eng- 
land, but  in  the  country  from  which  they  professed  to 
have  sprung.  Transparent  as  the  fiction  generally  was — 
as  regards  the  words  at  least — it  passed  current ;  and  time 
has  made  it  difficult  in  some  cases  to  tell  whether  the 
verses  were  originally  English  or  were  founded  upon  some 
older  Scottish  version.  The  fashion  of  London  reacted 
upon  Edinburgh.  Everybody  who  was  at  all  interested 
in  such  matters  knew  that  Scottish  tradition  and  old  half- 
forgotten  documents  held  the  materials  for  volumes  superior 
to  Durfey's.  Watson  set  the  example,  and  he  was  soon 
followed  by  others.  Ramsay  explored  the  rich  mine  of 
the  Bannatyne  MS.  for  his  Evergreen ;  and  in  The  Tea 
Table  Miscellany  supplied  a  collection  of  pieces  suitable 
to  the  kind  of  social  gatherings  indicated  by  the  title. 
Soon  afterwards  came  the  Orpheus  Caledonius  of  William 
Thomson ;  and  from  that  time  forward  there  has  been  a 
continuous  series  of  collections  of  a  similar  kind.  The 
character  of  these  collections  in  respect  of  accuracy  of 
research  is  a  question  by  itself:  it  is  enough  here  to  note 
that  their  appearance  indicated  a  renewed  interest  in  the 
old  poetry  of  the  country,  and  especially  an  interest  such 
as  had  never  before  existed  in  the  popular  poetry  of  ballad 
and  song.  The  songs  were  the  first  to  attract  attention. 
We  have  to  wait  until  the  publication  of  Percy's  Reliques 
before  we  find  evidence  of  any  wide  interest  in  that  species 
of  popular  poetry  which  was  meant  to  be  recited  or  chanted. 
There  is  however  no  doubt  that  the  ballads  as  a  body 
are  older  than  the  songs ;  and  while  songs  of  the  true 
Scottish    type    continue    to    be   written    to    this   day,    the 


1 64  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURK. 

spontaneous  ballad,  made  for  and  heard  by  the  people, 
long  ago  ceased  to  be  composed.  Historically,  therefore, 
the  ballads  must  be  considered  prior  to  the  songs. 

The  subject  both  of  the  ballads  and  of  the  songs  of 
Scotland  is  extremely  difficult.  Their  excellence  and  the 
importance  of  their  history  would  now  be  admitted  on 
all  hands  ;  but  when  an  attempt  is  made  to  trace  them 
back,  it  is  found  that  facts  constantly  elude  the  grasp. 
The  reason  is  that  old  MS.  authorities  are  so  rare  and 
insufficient.  Scott,  Jamieson,  Finlay,  Maidment,  Buchan, 
and  others  have  done  an  inestimable  service  to  the 
literature  of  the  country  in  preserving  the  fragments  of 
its  old  ballad  poetry ;  but  they  had  often  no  better 
authority  than  the  recitation  of  some  old  woman,  who 
preserved  the  tradition  of  the  district ;  and  none  of 
these  men,  except  perhaps  Maidment,  rose  to  the  modern 
standard  of  absolute  and  literal  fidelity  to  the  oldest  or 
best  authority.  Their  versions  are  frequently  the  result 
of  collation,  and  sometimes  they  are  interpolated.  The 
southern  ballads,  inferior  in  quality  and'  interest,  have 
the  advantage,  historically  speaking,  of  having  been  earlier 
written  or  printed  than  those  of  the  north. 

In  the  absence  of  written  documents  it  is  obvious  that 
dates  can  rarely  be  even  approximately  fixed.  The  test 
of  the  style  and  tone  of  thought  is,  it  is  true,  generally 
sufficient  to  distinguish  between  the  genuine  ballad  and 
the  modern  imitation.  Into  the  latter  there  creeps  almost 
inevitably  some  conception  or  turn  of  phrase  which  betrays 
its  origin ;  and  numerous  as  have  been  the  changes  intro- 
duced unconsciously  by  the  reciters,  they  are  different  in 
kind   from   those   which    indicate    the    handiwork    of    the 


1 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  165 

modern  editor.  The  reciters  were  too  simple-minded  to 
invent  poetic  graces.  From  the  test  of  style  however  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  infer  more  than  that  a  particular 
ballad  is  old  or  that  it  is  modern.  Nor  can  very  much 
be  learnt  from  the  language.  Far  too  great  importance 
has  been  in  recent  years  attached  to  this  test.  If  it 
could  be  trusted,  almost  all  the  Scottish  ballads  must  be 
pronounced  quite  modern.  But  it  is  clear  that  composi- 
tions handed  down  by  tradition  must  undergo  modifica- 
tions from  age  to  age,  gradually  assimilating  their  language 
to  the  speech  of  the  time.  Within  certain  limits,  valuable 
results  may  no  doubt  be  reached  by  the  study  of  the 
language  of  a  ballad.  The  survival  in  verses  orally  trans- 
mitted of  an  obsolete  word  or  grammatical  form  affords 
a  strong  presumption  of  the  antiquity  of  the  piece  in  which 
it  occurs ;  but  the  absence  of  antiquated  phraseology  is 
far  from  proving  modern  composition. 

In  determining  the  age  of  the  ballads  the  chief  reliance 
must  be  placed  upon  such  of  them  as  embody  or  refer 
to  historical  facts.  The  limits  of  time  within  which  un- 
rhymed  oral  tradition  is  capable  of  preserving  the  memory 
of  events  have  been  fairly  well  ascertained.  Facts  may 
live  in  this  way  for  about  three  generations ;  but  only 
the  most  important  will  survive  so  long,  and  these  merely 
in  outline.  If  then  we  find  a  knowledge  of  long  past 
events  handed  down  by  means  of  ballads,  the  natural 
inference  is  that  those  ballads,  unless  they  are  mere 
imitations,  must  have  been  written  shortly  after  the 
occurrence  of  the  events  they  commemorate.  Judged  by 
this  test,  the  ballads  of  Scotland  stretch  back  over  a 
period  of  not  less  than  six  hundred    years.      The  earliest 


1 66  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

authenticated  event  recorded  in  a  Scotch  ballad  is  that 
on  which  Sir  Patrick  Spe?is  is  founded.  It  is  true  that 
the  pretensions  of  Sir  Patrick  Spens  to  the  character  of 
an  old  historical  ballad  have  been  impugned.  Finlay, 
in  his  Scottish  Historical  and  Romantic  Ballads,  first 
hinted  doubt;  and  Laing  in  a  note  to  Johnson's  Scots 
Musical  Museu7n  suggested  that  it  was  written  by  Lady 
Wardlaw.  It  might  be  thought  then  that  serious  doubt 
must  rest  upon  the  character  of  this  ballad  ;  but  in  reality 
the  ascription  of  it  to  Lady  Wardlaw  is  a  striking 
instance  of  the  credulity  which  often  accompanies  ex- 
cessive scepticism.  It  counts  for  little  that  the  localities, 
Dunfermline  and  Aberdour,^  are  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Sir  H.  Wardlavv's  seat ;  nor  is  it  difficult  to  explain  the 
mention  of  "  cork-heeled  shoon,"  and  other  objects  un- 
familiar in  the  Scotland  of  the  thirteenth  century;  for 
no  one  ever  denied  that  ballads  are  liable  to  be  cor- 
rupted in  recitation.  On  the  other  hand,  the  evidence 
in  favour  of  the  historical  character  of  Sir  Patrick  is 
strong.  The  incidents  of  the  ballad  agree  so  well  with 
a  story  preserved  in  the  Scotichrotiicon  that  the  only 
natural  conclusion  is  that  the  ballad-maker  and  the 
historian  founded  upon  the  same  facts.  Unless  therefore 
the  ballad-maker  was  in  this  case  a  person  of  learning 
who  borrowed  from  history,  he  must  have  lived  so  near 
the  events  as  to  be  intimately  acquainted  with  them. 
But,  notwithstanding  the  Lady  Wardlaw  hypothesis,   there 

1  It  is  of  course  very  doubtful  if  the  Al)erdour  referred  to  in  the 
ballad  is  the  one  which  would  naturally  have  occurred  to  Lady 
Wardlaw  ;  but  the  critics  seized  upon  the  fact  that  she  lived  near 
a  place  of  that  name. 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  1 67 

is  not  a  scrap  of  evidence,  nothing  but  a  baseless  con- 
jecture, connecting  any  such  person  with  the  ballad.  It 
seems  as  fully  established  as  it  could  well  be  on  any  but 
ancient  documentary  evidence  that  Sir  Patrick  Spens 
carries  us  back  to  the  year  1281.  Certainly  no  existing 
version,  in  its  present  form,  is  as  old  or  nearly  as  old  as 
this ;  but  if  we  accept  it  as  a  genuine  old  ballad  we  are 
driven  to  the  conclusion  that  the  versions  now  current 
have  come  down  from  a  very  ancient  prototype,  and  have 
probably  only  undergone  the  changes  inseparable  from 
the  mode  of  their  transmission. 

But  Sir  Patrick  Spens  stands  alone.  An  interval  of 
more  than  a  hundred  years  elapsed  before  the  occurrence 
of  the  next  event  commemorated  in  ballad  poetry.  The 
ravages  of  time  sufficiently  account  for  the  blank.  There 
were,  according  to  Fordun,  songs  made  about  the  adven- 
tures of  Wallace  in  France.  Rude  fragments  of  rhyme  still 
exist  referring  to  one  or  two  incidents  in  the  struggle 
with  England;  and  it  may  be  assumed  that  the  principal 
events  of  an  active  and  exciting  period  were  not  left 
unsung.  But  after  Sir  Patrick  Spens  there  survives 
nothing  that  can  be  called  a  ballad  until  we  come  to 
those  which  relate  to  the  Battle  of  Otterburn,  fought 
in  1388.  Two  sets  of  ballads,  those  of  the  Hunting  of 
the  Cheviot  and  those  of  Otterburn  itself,  are  commonly 
associated  with  this  great  Border  fight;  but  probably 
they  refer  to  distinct  events.  If  so,  we  have  in  the 
Chevy  Chase  ballads  another  historical  thread  leading 
us  back  a  long  way.  It  is  remarkable  that  in  the  case 
of  Otterburn  the  English  version  is  older  than  the 
Scottish ;    while   the   Scottish   version    of  the    Hunting   of 


1 68  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

the  Cheviot  has  perished  altogether.  That  a  Scottish 
ballad  on  the  subject  existed  seems  to  be  proved  by 
The  Complaynt  of  Scotland.  In  the  list  of  songs  there 
given  we  find  The  hunttis  of  cheiiet.  It  is,  no  doubt, 
possible  that  this  may  refer  to  the  English  ballad ;  but 
in  view  of  the  spirit  of  The  Complaynt  it  is  highly 
improbable.  The  author  has  certainly  quoted  English 
songs  as  sung  by  the  shepherds ;  but  they  are  songs 
which  do  not  carry  their  nationality  on  their  face.  A 
Scot  so  patriotic  and  so  bitterly  hostile  to  England 
would  never  have  included  in  his  list  a  composition 
ascribing  victory  to  the  English.  Of  the  Scottish  ballads 
of  the  battle  of  Otterburn  none  in  its  present  form  is 
ancient ;  but  there  are  references  by  the  author  of  The 
Complaynt  of  Scotland  and  by  David  Hume  of  Godscroft, 
who  wrote  in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
which  prove  that  at  least  as  early  as  their  day  there 
existed  a  Scottish  ballad,  or  perhaps  more  than  one,  on 
the  subject  of  Otterburn.  The  probability  is  that  the 
story  of  the  battle  was  "done  into  rhyme"  soon  after  it 
took  place. 

In  this  way,  by  means  of  the  facts  which  the  minstrels 
have  recorded  in  their  verse,  it  is  possible  to  trace  back 
the  line  of  the  ballads  for  a  very  long  time.  There 
are  however  only  a  few  to  which  any  considerable 
antiquity  can  be  ascribed.  It  is  not  until  we  reach  the 
sixteenth  century  that  we  can  point  to  a  tolerable  body 
of  ballad  literature ;  and  then  we  are  upon  the  verge  of 
a  great  decline  in  quality.  Of  the  numerous  ballads 
which  can  be  proved  to  belong  to  the  seventeenth 
century  few  indeed  are  excellent.     The    Covenanters   had 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  i6g 

not    the   gift   of    song,    and    their    opponents    were    little 
better. 

But  it  is  necessary  to  guard  against  the  assumption 
that  because  the  historical  ballads  are  those  which  afford 
the  best  ground  for  determining  age  they  are  therefore 
the  oldest.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  probable  that  the 
ballads  of  romance  and  superstition  are  of  still  greater 
antiquity.  All  that  is  known  of  the  development  of  the 
human  mind  supports  the  belief  that  the  unseen  world 
sooner  interests  and  more  profoundly  moves  the  imagina- 
tion than  past  facts.  On  a  tribe  just  emerging  from 
barbarism  the  past  has  but  slight  hold,  for  the  historical 
sense  is  not  yet  awakened ;  but  such  a  tribe  is  deeply 
stirred  by  the  sense  of  the  supernatural.  A  priori  there- 
fore we  should  expect  to  find  tales  of  superstition  at  an 
earlier  date  than  ballads  of  history ;  and  this  is  borne 
out  by  the  facts  so  far  as  they  can  be  ascertained.  The 
extreme  antiquity  of  the  superstitions  embodied  in  the 
ballads  is  beyond  dispute.  Stories  of  fairies,  monsters, 
and  goblins  run  back  to  a  very  dim  past.  They  are  so 
old  as  to  be  the  property,  not  of  a  particular  tribe  or 
nation,  but  almost  of  the  human  race.  In  this  case 
however  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  between  the  question 
of  the  origin  of  the  tale  and  that  of  the  antiquity  of  the 
ballad  which  preserves  its  memory.  And  between  the 
historical  ballads  and  the  ballads  of  superstition  there  is 
this  important  distinction,  that  while  historical  facts,  un- 
versified,  will,  as  has  been  already  observed,  live  in 
popular  tradition  only  a  limited  time,  there  is  practically 
no  limit  to  the  vitality  of  superstitions  in  any  form. 
While,  therefore,  we  must  suppose  that  historical  facts,  in 


1 70  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

order  to  be  carried  in  the  popular  memory,  must  have 
been  thrown  into  poetic  form  at  no  great  distance  from 
the  time  of  their  occurrence,  there  is  no  reason  why 
superstitions  may  not  have  passed  current  for  centuries  in 
ordinary  prose  narrative  before  they  were  made  the 
theme  of  a  ballad.  The  backward  limit  of  the  ballads 
of  superstition  must  consequently  be  fixed,  so  far  as  it 
can  be  fixed  at  all,  not  by  the  antiquity  of  the  super- 
stition itself,  but  rather  by  reference  to  the  historical 
ballads  and  by  any  casual  evidence  that  may  exist  with 
respect  to  particular  tales.  The  line  of  the  historical 
ballads  may  apparently  be  traced  back  to  about  the 
end  of  the  thirteenth  century.  The  ballads  of  super- 
stition, there  is  reason  to  suppose,  took  their  rise  some 
time  earlier.  But  once  more  the  gap  between  the 
probable  origin  and  the  earliest  documentary  evidence  is 
enormous.  The  Talc  of  the  Voting  Tamlane  appears 
in  the  list  of  the  Cotnplaynit  of  Scothind.  It  may  have 
been  different  from  the  ballad  of  Tattiiane  in  the 
Minstrelsy ;  but  the  name  affords  a  reasonable  presump- 
tion that  the  one  is  connected  with  the  other.  Though 
Scott's  version,  which  is  the  result  of  collation,  is  con- 
siderably modernised,  it  probably  springs  from  an  older 
set  of  verses.  But  the  ballads  of  this  class  which  give 
greatest  assurance  of  antiquity  are  those  which  relate  to 
Thomas  the  Rhymer,  and  that  just  because  they  have 
a  historical  setting.  Thomas  himself  lived  in  the  twelfth 
century.  The  oldest  poems  recording  his  intercourse 
with  Fairyland  and  his  prophecies  are  preserved  in  the 
Thornton  MS.  at  Lincoln,  which  dates  about  1430-40. 
But  this  version  is  certainly  English  ;  and  as  all  the  MS. 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  171 

authority  is  southern,  it  would  be  rash  to  build  much  on 
those  poems  with  reference  to  the  poetry  of  the  north. 
It  is  however  significant  that  this,  the  earliest  assignable 
date  for  the  ballads  of  superstition,  does  lead  us  into 
a  remoter  past  than  the  historical  ballads. 

There  are  still  other  ballads,  poems  of  sentiment  and 
love,  which  have  no  basis  either  in  history  or  superstition. 
These  present  little  that  is  valuable  for  the  purpose  of 
fixing  dates.  They  are  like  the  ballads  of  superstition  in 
the  fact  that  as  a  rule  they  afford  no  evidence  of  their 
starting-points.  They  are  unlike  them  in  this,  that  though 
the  emotions  they  express  are  primary  elements  of  human 
character,  they  are  not  so  early  the  subject  of  verse  as 
are  either  facts  of  history  or  conceptions  about  a  spirit- 
life.  Ballads  of  this  description,  therefore,  are  probably 
as  a  class  the  most  recent  of  all. 

There  seems  then  to  be  sufficient  ground  to  conclude 
with  confidence  that  ever  since  the  dawn  of  national 
literature  the  Lowland  Scotch  have  nursed  and  cherished 
a  popular  poetry  as  genuine  as  that  recognised  by  the 
learned,  and  often  higher  in  tone.  It  is  true  that  the 
primitive  forms  of  this  poetry  are  unknown  to  us  in  their 
purity;  but  unless  we  adopt  a  hypothesis  of  wholesale 
modern  forgery,  like  the  forgeries  of  Chatterton  and  Mac- 
pherson,  we  must  assume  the  substantial  fidelity  of  most 
of  the  modern  versions  to  an  ancient  authority.  In  other 
words,  most  of  the  Scottish  ballads  are  genuine  pieces  of 
popular  poetry,  not  imitations,  and  some  of  them  are  in 
substance  of  great  antiquity.  It  would  no  doubt  be  more 
satisfactory  if  it  were  possible  to  point  to  documents  in  sup- 
port of  these  conclusions  ;  but  comparison  with  the  English 


1 7  2  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

ballads  suggests  the  question  whether  the  absence  of  such 
documents  is  purely  matter  for  regret.     There  are  few  of 
the  English  ballads,  particularly  those  of  the  south,  which 
can  be  ranked  for  poetic  merit  with  the  Scottish  ballads. 
Why  this  should  be  so  it  is  difficult  to  say.     Certainly  it 
cannot  be  that  the  race  which,  after  the  Greek,  has  proved 
itself  the  most  poetical   of  all  races,  was  wanting  in  the 
power  and  spirit  from  which  fine  popular  poetry  springs. 
Perhaps  the  conjecture   of  Mr.   Lang,  in  Ward's  English 
Poets,  is  the  most  probable  that  could  be  advanced— that 
the  English  ballads  suffered  at  the  hands  of  half-educated 
editors,  printers,  and  transcribers,  who,  thinking  to  improve, 
refined  away  the  fire  and  energy  and  imagination  of  the 
old  minstrels.     If  so,  it  is  really  matter  for  congratulation 
that  the  northern  ballads  in  so  many  cases  existed  only 
in  the  memory  of  the  people  until  they  were  taken  down 
by  men  of  taste  and  genius.     We  can  spare  the  antiquity 
in  consideration  of  the  beauty. 

The  subjects  of  the  ballads  are  almost  as  various  as  the 
interests  of  humanity.  The  wars  between  England  and 
Scotland,  clan-feuds,  moss-trooping  raids,  captures  and 
rescues,  are  all  in  turn  the  theme  of  the  minstrel.  All  the 
stronger  passions— love,  hatred,  jealousy,  revenge— become 
likewise  the  subject  of  poetical  treatment.  But  however 
various  the  subjects  may  be,  there  is  much  uniformity  in 
the  mode  of  handling  them.  The  true  ballad  always  takes 
the  form  of  a  narrative;  and  this  is  one  of  the  points  in 
which  it  differs  from  the  song.  The  song  is  primarily  the 
expression  of  sentiment.  The  singer  is  the  centre  of  his 
own  verse,  and,  if  facts  are  introduced,  they  are  subsidiary ; 
but   in    the   ballad    the    minstrel    is    merely   the    medium 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  173 

for  giving  poetic  expression  to  some  outward  fact  or 
event.  His  reflections  therefore,  if  any,  must  be  sub- 
ordinate to  the  narrative.  The  ballad  is  also,  in  ac- 
cordance with  its  popular  character,  marked  by  sim- 
plicity, both  in  its  substance  and  its  external  form. 
Its  metrical  structure  is  unpretentions  and  not  very 
varied.  The  thought  is  without  complexity,  inartificial, 
and,  to  a  large  extent,  common  property.  There  are  con- 
ventional endings,  conventional  methods  of  sending  and 
of  receiving  news,  conventional  ways  of  acting  in  certain 
recurrent  circumstances.  These  conventionalities  serve 
various  purposes.  As  the  commentators  on  Homer  have 
often  pointed  out,  they  serve  to  give  relief  to  the  reciter 
or  chanter  J  they  are  a  kind  of  level  ground  over  which 
he  can  pace  mechanically  without  strain  on  the  memory. 
They  also  frequently  mark  time,  as  it  were,  for  the  audience. 
The  familiar  crisis  in  the  fight,  the  familiar  action  on  receipt 
of  important  tidings,  the  familiar  details  of  the  lady's  beauty 
or  magnificent  array,  all  these  and  many  more  help  the 
listener  to  note  the  progress  of  the  tale.  They  are  almost 
like  the  shifting  of  the  scene  in  a  drama.  But  the  main 
purpose  of  repetitions  is  to  win  sympathy  by  a  kind  ot 
appeal  to  the  whole  of  ballad  literature.  No  ballad  stands 
quite  alone.  It  is  a  member  of  a  class ;  and  the  common 
parts  are  a  sort  of  symbol  of  kinship.  Absolute  novelty 
would  be  the  reverse  of  a  merit.  The  audience  would  miss 
the  well-known  lines,  and  their  appreciation  of  that  which 
was  new  would  be  lessened. 

It  is  however  only  by  this  community  of  spirit  that  the 
ballads  are  united.  Not  infrequently,  it  is  true,  several  are 
found  referring  to  the  same  person  or  the  same  event  or 


1 74  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

series  of  events.  In  some  instances  they  are  versions  of 
a  common  original,  in  others  they  recount  independently 
different  though  related  incidents.  But  they  cannot  be 
unified,  and  they  are  seldom  to  be  regarded  as  continua- 
tions one  of  another.  There  nowhere  exists  among  the 
ballads  of  Scotland  such  a  series  of  connected  pieces  as 
even  the  English  ballads  of  Robin  Hood,  much  less  series 
of  ballads  which  exhibit  unity  of  composition.  Popular 
poetry  showed  no  tendency,  in  Scotland  at  least,  to  develop 
into  the  epic ;  and  if  the  Homeric  poems  are  to  be  looked 
upon  as  ballads  woven  together,  they  present  a  pheno- 
menon very  different  from  any  to  be  found  in  this  country. 
It  follows  that  the  literary  capabilities  of  popular  poetry  are 
limited.  The  ballad  cannot  treat  any  complex  subject. 
Though  less  strictly  bounded  in  length  and  in  range  than 
the  song,  it  is  hardly  more  fitted  to  develop  many  sides 
of  a  theme. 

Nevertheless,  the  ballad  is  capable,  within  its  own  limits, 
of  rising  to  the  highest  excellence ;  and  the  old  ballads  of 
Scotland  are  peculiarly  rich  in  poetic  beauties.  The  ballad- 
makers,  by  the  sheer  force  of  simplicity  and  truth,  suc- 
ceeded in  picturing  nature  when  more  ambitious  literary 
artists  failed.  In  their  handling  of  the  supernatural  they 
show  a  profound  knowledge  of  the  springs  of  character. 
The  best  of  them  betray  a  strong  imaginative  sympathy 
with  their  subject,  by  virtue  of  which  they  rise  from  time  to 
time  to  heights  of  style  far  above  the  "aureate  terms"  of 
more  pretentious  poets.  By  an  unconscious  but  true  artistic 
sense,  they  are  often  found  preparing  for  some  important 
point  by  giving  it  just  that  setting  which  is  best  suited  to  bring 
it  into  prominence.     And  as  they  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  1/5 

rude  chivalry,  there  shines  through  their  strange  and  faulty 
code  of  morals  the  constant  light  of  high  and  generous 
thoughts,  dauntless  courage,  fidelity  in  friendship,  and  at 
times  even  sympathy  with  the  weak  and  generosity  to 
enemies  ;  in  short,  all  the  characteristic  virtues  of  a  strong 
race  slowly  rising  through  troublous  times  to  a  more  refined 
civilisation. 

There  are  probably  no  ballads  so  rich  in  good  poetry 
as  those  which  deal  with  the  superstitions  of  the  people. 
This  is  the  more  remarkable  as  the  great  mass  of  unpoetised 
popular  superstition  is  mean  and  even  repulsive.  Though 
Shakespeare  could  use  witches  with  supreme  effect,  there 
is  in  the  ordinary  belief  in  witchcraft  hardly  a  single  idea 
which  is  not  tainted  with  vulgarity.  There  are  in  it  ele- 
ments of  coarseness  and  a  strong  infusion  of  the  grotesque  ; 
but  more  prevalent  than  either  is  the  merely  commonplace. 
The  means  by  which  the  witches  travel  through  the  air, 
their  transformations  and  those  of  their  master,  their  meet- 
ings with  him  and  the  details  of  their  intercourse,  all  be- 
speak poverty  of  imagination.  Their  gruesome  dealings 
with  the  dead  are  a  more  promising  theme  :  they  are 
capable  of  being  made  awful,  though  not  beautiful.  But 
there  is  little  in  the  whole  range  of  the  popular  creed  of 
witchcraft  for  which  so  much  can  be  said.  The  poet 
who  takes  up  this  subject  must  in  effect  make  his  super- 
natural for  himself  The  relation  between  his  work  and 
its  foundation  is  similar  to  that  between  a  play  of  Shake- 
speare and  the  original  story,  so  often  poor  and  sapless, 
on  which  he  grafts  it.  In  the  inanities  of  vulgar  super- 
stition there  is  no  poetry,  nor  any  seeming  promise  of 
poetry.      Far  different  in  its  power  over  the  mind  is  the 


1 76  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

supernatural  of  the  ballads ;  yet  it  has  grown  out  of 
common  tales  of  wonder,  many  of  which  are  in  their  ele- 
ments beggarly  enough,  and  nearly  all  of  which  must  be 
supposed  to  have  sprung  from  rude  originals.  Nay, 
when  the  ballads  are  examined,  it  frequently  proves 
that  the  charm  lies,  not  in  the  superstition  itself,  but  in 
the  circumstances  with  which  it  is  clothed  and  the  lan- 
guage in  which  it  is  expressed.  All  the  more  remarkable 
is  the  proof  of  the  power  of  the  ballad-maker,  who,  out 
of  the  most  unpromising  materials  and  by  the  simplest 
changes,  has  evolved  the  beauty  of  poetry. 

Of  all  superstitions,  those  concerning  the  fairies  or  elves 
are  among  the  most  frequently  repeated.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary here  to  discuss  the  nature  and  attributes  of  these 
beings  :  much  information  on  the  subject  is  contained  in 
Scott's  elaborate  introduction  to  the  ballad  of  Young 
Tamlane,  and  it  has  been  amply  dealt  with  since  his 
time.  They  are  however  the  centre  of  some  of  the 
most  charming  pieces  of  ballad  poetry.  The  ballads  of 
Thomas  the  Rhymer  turn  upon  the  connexion  between 
Thomas  and  Fairyland,  and  contain  some  exquisite  and 
well-known  verses  about  his  intercourse  with  the  queen 
of  that  realm.  The  idea  of  the  middle  path  between  the 
broad  and  narrow  ways  is  very  beautiful — the  "pleasant 
path  that  winds  across  the  lily  leven."  The  ballad  of 
Yoiaig  Tainlane  itself  affords  specimens  second  to  none 
of  this  species  of  poetry.  Unfortunately,  the  version  in 
Scott's  Minstrelsy,  which  was  the  first  complete  one,  has 
an  unsatisfactory  history.  It  is  the  result  of  a  collation 
of  earlier  printed  fragments  with  a  copy  in  the  Glenriddell 
MSS.  and  with  several  recitations  from  tradition.     Further, 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  177 

some  verses  are  added    from   yet  another  copy  obtained 
from  a  gentleman  unnamed,  which,  we  are  cautiously  told, 
"is  said  to  be  very  ancient."      It  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at   therefore  that  some  parts   of  Scott's   version  bear  the 
modern   stamp ;    but   there  can    be   little   doubt   that   the 
substance  of  the  tale  is  of  considerable  antiquity.      The 
subject  is  the  adventures  of  a  lady  with  a  knight  trans- 
formed  into   a  fairy.      She   is   the   daughter   of   Dunbar, 
Earl  March,  and  he  the  son  of  Randolph,  Earl   Murray. 
He  avows  himself  well  content  to  dwell   in  Elfish  Land, 
except   that    every   seven   years    "  they   pay   the   teind    to 
hell " ;  and,  fearing  that  he  may  be  chosen,  he  instructs 
the   lady   how   she   may   win    hmi   back    to    earth.      The 
poetical  climax  is  reached  when  the  lady  makes  her  way 
in  the  dark  to  the  solitary  trysting  place,  where  she  is  to 
abide  all   that   the  unearthly  cavalcade  can   do    to  shake 
her  nerve. 

"Gloomy,  gloomy  was  the  night, 
And  eiry  was  the  way, 
As  fair  Janet,  in  her  green  mantle, 
To  Miles  Cross  she  did  gae. 

"Betwixt  the  hours  of  twelve  and  one, 
A  north  wind  tore  the  bent ; 
And  straight  she  heard  strange  elrich  sounds 
Upon  that  wind  which  went. 

"About  the  dead  hour  o'  the  night, 
She  heard  the  bridles  ring; 
And  Janet  was  as  glad  o'  that 
As  any  earthly  thing." 

These  verses  are  unfortunately  among  the  doubtful  parts 
of  the  ballad;    but  whether  they  be  ancient  or  modern, 

M 


178  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

nothing  could  better  show  the  terrible  pressure  of  the  super- 
natural upon  the  human  heart  than  the  lines  which  express 
so  simply  the  relief  brought  by  the  ring  of  the  fairy  bridles. 
The  sound  at  least  was  suggestive  of  earth  ;  and  everything 
else — the  darkness,  the  solitude,  above  all  the  purpose  with 
which  the  lady  was  there — tended  to  fill  the  mind  with 
thoughts  of  the  weird  and  ghostly. 

Of  more  common  occurrence  than  even  the  superstitions 
of  the  fairies  are  those  which  relate  to  the  dead.  The 
return  of  the  lover's  ghost  to  his  mistress,  demanding  back 
his  plighted  faith  and  troth,  sometimes  followed  by  the 
lady's  visit  to  the  open  grave,  is  an  incident  which  shows 
the  belief  in  the  persistence  of  human  relations  beyond  the 
bounds  of  life.  The  supposed  effect  of  the  presence  of  a 
murderer  upon  the  corpse  is  well  known,  and  the  idea  is 
widely  spread.  It  is  sometimes  used  in  the  ballads  as  a 
means  of  discriminating  guilt  from  innocence.  An  example 
will  be  found  in  Earl  Richard^  a  ballad  of  terrible  revenge 
for  slighted  love.  The  same  ballad  illustrates  also  the  more 
impressive  superstition  of  the  corpse-lights  marking  the 
place  where  the  murdered  body  lies.  It  has  been  sunk  in 
the  "wan  water"  of  Clyde;  but  no  care  of  search  by  day 
avails.     The  trial  by  night  is  crowned  with  success,  for 

"Where  that  sackless  knight  lay  slain, 
The  candles  burned  bright." 

The  conditions  on  which  the  dead  are  allowed  to  revisit 
the  scenes  of  life  are  laid  down  carefully,  and  with  a  general 
uniformity.  The  connexion  between  day  and  life,  between 
night  and  death,  suggests  itself  to  every  imaginative  mind, 
and  finds  expression  in  the  poetry  of  all  nations  and  ages. 
Cock-crow,  as  the  herald  of  dawn,  is  the  limit  of  ghostly 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  1 79 

liberty.  Sometimes  this  is  put  in  most  expressive  lan- 
guage :— 

"  The  cock  doth  craw,   the  day  doth  daw, 
The  channerin'  worm  doth  chide ; 
Gin  we  be  mist  out  o'  our  place, 
A  sair  pain  we  maun  bide." 

The  spirits  of  the  blest,  though  less  frequently  than  those 
which  have  earned  an  eternal  doom,  also  wander  back  to 
earth.  They  likewise  appear  only  in  the  night;  but  they 
bear  the  symbol  of  their  happier  fate  in  the  form  of  a  cap 
or  garland  of  birch.  This  garland  is  worn  by  the  sons  of 
the  wife  of  Usher's  Well : — 

"  It  neither  grew  in  syke  nor  ditch 
Nor  yet  in  ony  sheugh ; 
But  at  the  gates  o'  Paradise 
That  birk  grew  fair  eneugh." 

The  spirits  doomed  to  torment  are  surrounded  by  memorials 
of  their  sins,  and  have  hell-hounds  for  the  companions  of 
their  grave. 

No  superstitions  of  this  class  are  more  impressive  than 
those  which  relate  to  the  "waking"  of  the  still  unburied 
body,  especially  when  the  death  has  been  by  violence ;  and 
nowhere  are  they  better  expressed  than  in  the  fine  ballad  of 
Young  Benjie  in  Scott's  Minstrelsy.  This  ballad  gives  the 
story  of  true  love  leading  to  jealousy,  and  jealousy  ending 
in  crime.  The  brothers  of  the  maiden,  Marjorie,  find  her 
drowned  body,  and  resolve  to  take  the  weird  means  of  dis- 
covering the  criminal : — 

"'The  night  it  is  her  low  lykewake, 
The  morn  her  burial  day, 
And  we  maun  watch  at  mirk  midnight. 
And   hear  what  she  will  say.' 


1 80  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

"  Wi'  doors  ajar  and  candle  light, 
And  torches  burning  clear, 
The  streikit  corpse,   till  still  midnight. 
They  waked,   but  naething  hear. 

"  About  the  middle  o'  the  night 
The  cocks  began  to  craw ; 
And  at  the  dead  hour  o'  the  night. 
The  corpse  began  to  thraw." 

In  Scott's  introduction  to  the  ballad  will  be  found  par- 
ticulars relating  to  the  beliefs  here  indicated.  Leaving  the 
door  ajar  was  one  of  the  means  for  giving  the  spirit  an 
opportunity  of  revisiting  the  body. 

These  are  but  a  few  examples  of  the  numberless  forms 
of  belief  connected  with  the  unseen  world.  Some  of  those 
beliefs  are  merely  grotesque,  like  the  changing  of  a  lady 
into  some  loathsome  monster,  a  "  laidly  worm "  or  fiery 
dragon  ;  but  even  with  such  fancies  there  are  mixed  ideas 
of  beauty,  such  as  the  common  one  of  restoration  by  the 
kiss  of  a  knight.  Other  incidents,  as,  for  example,  the 
means  by  which  Cospatrick  discovers  the  character  of  the 
lady  he  has  wedded,  can  hardly  be  said  to  do  more  than 
feed  the  vulgar  appetite  for  wonder.  In  such  cases  the 
popular  superstition  is  simply  versified  without  being  trans- 
formed into  poetry.  But  always  and  in  almost  all  forms 
superstition  has  an  irresistible  fascination  for  the  minstrels, 
and  as  a  rule  their  imagination  glows  and  brightens  under 
its  influence.  Doubtless  they  themselves  felt  it  most  pro- 
foundly, and  knew  that  they  could  most  surely  reach  their 
hearers  by  such  means. 

But  the  life  which  the  minstrels  knew  and  which  their 
audience  led  was  far  too  active  to  be  represented  by  a 
collection  of  superstitions.      Its  energy,  its  scenes  of  viol- 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  l8l 

ence,  its  "  sturt  and  strife,"  are  faithfully  reflected  in  the 
ballads.  The  oldest  of  the  historical  ballads  have  been 
already  mentioned  in  the  discussion  of  the  antiquity  of 
this  species  of  composition ;  but  there  are  many  other 
ballads  which,  whether  truly  historical  or  not,  have  action 
for  their  subject,  the  exploits  of  heroes  generally  real, 
though  sometimes  not  to  be  identified.  Ballads  of  this 
class  have  a  long  history.  It  has  been  seen  that  they 
start  early :  they  also  last  late.  When  that  poetic  impulse 
which  produced  the  more  imaginative  ballads  of  romance 
had  almost  passed  away,  it  was  still  possible  to  string 
rhymes  upon  a  solid  basis  of  fact ;  and  the  jealousy  of 
the  Reformation  and  the  Covenant  in  respect  of  profane 
poetry  had  less  effect  upon  this  class  than  upon  any  other. 
But  the  older  ballads  are  very  different  from  such  plebeian 
strains  as  we  meet  with  in  those  later  times.  In  passing 
from  the  cloudy  domain  of  superstition  to  the  region  of 
hard  realities  the  minstrels  fortunately  do  not  leave  their 
imagination  behind  them.  Just  as  they  ennoble  the  vulgar 
prosaic  features  of  the  popular  notions  of  the  spirit  world, 
so  they  soften  the  brutalities  of  the  real  life  of  rude  times 
and  clothe  that  life  in  a  vesture  of  noble  thoughts  and 
generous  sentiments.  It  will  be  objected  that  this  is  con- 
tradictory of  what  is  universally  received  as  one  of  the 
special  merits  of  the  ballads,  their  fearless  acceptance  of 
facts,  however  unlovely.  That  they  do  fearlessly  accept 
facts  is  true.  They  show  that  courage  which,  in  more 
than  one  artificial  age,  has  seemed  to  be  leaving  the 
world — the  courage  to  trust  the  truth  in  whatever  shape ; 
and  perhaps  the  inculcation  of  this  trust  is  the  most 
valuable    of   all    the    lessons    which    this    unsophisticated 


1 82  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

poetry  offers  to  men.  But  no  mere  chronicle  of  facts  is 
history,  and  still  less  can  it  pretend  to  be  poetry.  The 
difference  between  the  true  poetry  of  the  people,  the  high- 
class  ballads,  and  those  which  halt  along  unrhythmical, 
unedifying,  unadorned  by  any  poetic  grace  or  merit,  is 
just  this,  that  the  former,  when  they  record  facts,  present 
those  facts  imaginatively;  and  the  latter,  while  not  more 
truthful,  leave  out  the  imagination. 

In  the  ballads  of  action  all  that  is  best  in  the  life  of 
the  time  and  country  finds  a  voice.  I  have  called  it  a 
life  of  rude  chivalry.  The  rudeness  is  only  too  evident, 
but  the  chivalry  is  no  less  real.  Scot  of  Satchells  defined 
a  freebooter  as  "a  cavalier  who  risks  his  life  for  gain"; 
and  if  he  had  been  the  wisest  of  students  of  the  common- 
weal he  could  not  have  defined  him  better.  Moss- 
trooping,  raiding  and  reiving,  cattle-driving,  whatever  the 
name  by  which  the  organised  Border  life  of  robbery  was 
called,  was  an  intolerable  oppression  on  peaceful  neigh- 
bours, a  thing  not  to  be  endured  in  any  well-ordered 
community.  But  it  was  a  life  of  hardy  virtues,  and  one 
w^hich  therefore  is  separated  by  a  broad  line  from  that  of 
mere  criminality.  Like  piracy  in  Homeric  times  it  was 
sanctioned  by  public  opinion,  and  this  counted  for  much. 
The  Border  raider  did  not  lose  his  self-respect;  on  the 
contrary,  skill,  daring,  and  success  raised  him  in  the 
judgment  of  his  neighbours,  and,  by  consequence,  in  his 
own  eyes. 

Scott's  Minstrelsy  contains  several  ballads  of  Border 
raids  which  throw  more  light  perhaps  than  anything  else 
on  the  ordinary  life  of  the  district.  The  cruelty  of  the 
harrying,   the   pathos   of  the   harried   man's   position,    the 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  1 83 

courage  to  face  every  risk,  the  fellow-feeling  springing 
from  the  sense  of  common  danger  and  the  intense  clan 
spirit,  all  stand  out  with  a  distinctness  almost  unexampled 
in  literature.  The  effect  could  only  be  produced  by  per- 
fect simplicity  and  unflinching  truth.  The  harrying  of 
Jamie  Telfer  of  the  Fair  Dodhead  is  a  good  example. 
The  suddenness  of  the  onset,  the  thoroughness  with  which 
the  work  is  done,  the  pleading  of  the  victim,  mingled  with 
his  threats,  and  its  mocking  reception,  are  told  with  spirit.- 
But  the  poetic  merit  rises  in  the  latter  part.  The  ruined 
man  has  nothing  for  it  but  to  gather  a  band  if  he  can, 
and  by  its  help  recover  his  cattle.  He  sets  about  it  at 
once : — 

"The  sun  wasna  up,  but  the  moon  was  down. 
It  was  the  gryniing  of  a  new-fa'n  snaw, 
Jamie  Telfer  has  run  ten  myles  a-foot. 

Between  the  Dodhead  and  the  Stobs's  Ha'." 

His  first  appeal  for  aid  meets  with  a  blank  refusal,  and 
he  is  nearly  desperate  : — 

"  My  hounds  may  a'  rin  masterless, 

My  hawks  may  fly  frae  tree  to  tree, 
My  lord  may  grip  my  vassal  lands. 
For  there  again  maun  I  never  be." 

But  afterwards  he  meets  with  more  success.  Thoughts  of 
kinship  or  memories  of  kindness  rouse  some  of  his 
neighbours.  It  is  however  through  "auld  Buccleuch," 
to  whom  Jamie  has  paid  black-mail,  that  the  whole 
district  is  brought  to  arms.  They  meet  the  Captain  of 
Bewcastle  on  his  way  back  with  the  plundered  property, 
demand  its  restoration,  and  on  his  refusal  engage  in 
deadly  battle.     The  chief  incident  in   the  struggle  is  the 


1 84  SCOTTJSn  LITERATURE. 

death  of  Willie  Scott    and   its    effect   on    "auld    Wat  of 
Harden  "  :— 

"  But  he's  taen  aff  his  gude  steel  cap, 

And  thrice  he's  waved  it  in  the  air — 
The  Dinlay  snaw  was  ne'er  mair  white 
Nor  the  lyart  locks  of  Harden's  hair." 

The  battle  goes  in  favour  of  the  Scots,  and  Jamie  Telfer 
gets  poetic  justice,  receiving  threefold  that  which  he  had 
lost. 

Another  specimen  of  the  same  class,  Kinmont  Willie, 
may  be  cited  as  illustrating  the  desperate  risks  a  Border 
leader  was  willing  to  take  on  behalf  of  a  dependant.  It 
has  a  historical  foundation,  and  Scott  calls  the  event  "  one 
of  the  last  and  most  gallant  achievements  performed  upon 
the  Border."  The  subject  is  the  rescue  from  Carlisle 
Castle  of  William  Armstrong  of  Kinmont,  who  had  been 
seized  in  a  time  of  truce.  Buccleuch,  as  Keeper  of  the 
Border  on  the  Scottish  side,  gathers  a  company,  sur- 
prises the  castle,  liberates  the  captive,  and  swims  the 
Eden  in  high  flood.  The  exclamation  put  in  the  mouth 
of  Lord  Scroop  with  reference  to  the  last  exploit  shows 
its  desperate  nature  : — 

"He  is  either  himsell  a  devil  frae  hell, 
Or  else  his  mother  a  witch  maun  be ; 
I  wad  na  have  ridden  that  wan  water, 
For  a'  the  gowd  in  Christentie." 

The  rescue  of  the  prisoner  was  all  that  was  attempted ;  in 
order  to  show  respect  for  the  peace  there  was  no  spoiling, 
and  no  violence  was  done  except  what  was  strictly 
necessary  for  Kinmont's  liberation.  The  whole  action  is 
as  chivalrous  as  any  of  the  knightly  deeds  of  daring. 


I 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  1 85 

The  examples  hitherto  quoted  have  been  taken  ex- 
clusively from  the  events  of  that  semi-private  war  which 
raged  or  smouldered  incessantly  along  the  Border.  Still 
nobler  traits  mark  those  ballads  which  relate  to  circum- 
stances of  a  Avider  and  truly  national  interest.  Of  these 
the  best  are  Sir  Patrick  Spetis  and  the  Battle  of  Otter- 
bourne.  The  latter  originates  in  an  action  much  of  the 
Border-raiding  class,  but  lifted  by  its  magnitude  into  a 
higher  category.  Something  has  been  already  said  about 
the  ballads  of  Otterburn.  Whatever  the  place  where 
they  originated,  the  excellence  of  these  ballads  is  un- 
questionable ;  and  some  of  the  most  imaginative  touches 
in  the  whole  range  of  ballad  literature  are  to  be  found 
in  them.     Such  is  the  dream  of  Douglas : — 

"But  I  hae  dreamed  a  dreary  dream, 
Beyond  the  Isle  of  Skye  ; 
I  saw  a  dead  man  win  a  fight, 
And  I  think  that  man  was  I." 

And  when  the  fatal  wound    is    received    he    refers  to  the 
dream  again  and  draws  comfort  from  it : — 

"*My  nephew  good,'  the  Douglas  said, 
'  What  recks  the  death  of  ane ! 
Last  night  I  dreamed  a  dreary  dream. 
And  I  ken  the  day's  thy  ain. 

"  'My  wound  is  deep  ;    I  fain  would  sleep  ; 
Take  thou  the  vanguard  of  the  three, 
And  hide  me  by  the  bracken  bush. 
That  grows  on  yonder  lilye  lee. 

'"O  bury  me  by  the  bracken  bush 
Beneath  the  blooming  briar, 
Let  never  living  mortal  ken. 

That  e'er  a  kindly  Scot  lies  here.'" 


1 86  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

There  is  high  feehng  too,  and  a  beautiful  desire  to  honour 
the  great  leader,  in  Montgomery's  effort  to  make  Percy 
yield  to  the  bracken  bush — that  is,  to  the  dead  Douglas, 
who,  unknown  to  Percy,  lay  beneath  it.  But  neither  in  the 
ballads  nor  elsewhere  in  literature  would  it  be  easy  to 
find  loftier  chivalry  than  that  of  Percy  in  the  English 
version  of  the  Hunting  of  the  Cheviot.  It  is  after  the 
death  of  Douglas. 

"The  Perse  leanyde  on  his  brande, 

And  saw  the  Duglas  de ; 
He  tooke  the  dede  man  be  the  hande, 

And  sayd,   'Wo  ys  me  for  the  ! 
To  have  savyde  thy  lyffe,  I  wold  have  pertyde  with 

My  landes  for  years  thre, 
For  a  better  man,  of  harte  nare  of  hande, 

Was  not  in  all  the  north  contre.'" 

These  are  specimens  of  but  a  few  of  the  many  aspects 
of  the  ballads.  Their  range  is  considerably  wider  than  is 
commonly  supposed.  Love,  pathos,  and  pity  are  repre- 
sented in  them  as  well  as  daring  activity.  This  senti- 
mental side  of  the  ballads  is,  as  has  been  already  said, 
on  the  whole,  a  later  development  than  the  aspects  which 
have  just  been  treated.  It  first  appears  not  independently, 
but  in  conjunction  with  the  simpler  strain  of  action.  For 
instance,  after  the  crisis  of  Sir  Patrick  Spens  the  poet  turns 
from  those  who  have  struggled  and  died  to  those  who  are 
doomed  to  passive  suffering  : — 

"  O  lang,  lang,  may  the  ladyes  sit, 
Wi'  their  fans  into  their  hand, 
Before  they  see  Sir  Patrick  Spens  ■  .  i 

Come  sailing  to  the  strand  ! 

"  And  lang,  lang,  may  the  maidens  sit, 
Wi'  their  goud  kaims  in  their  hair, 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  1 87 

A'  waiting  for  their  ain  dear  loves, 
Yox  them  they'll  see  nae  mair  !  " 

Sometimes  the  sentiment,  though  genuine,  receives  a 
quaint  utterance,  as  in  the  Douglas  Tragedy^  where  the 
lady  bids  Lord  William  hold  his  hand,  for 

"  True  lovers  I  may  get  mony  a  ane, 
But  a  father  I  can  never  get  mair." 

Simplicity  is  the  most  prominent  quality  here  ;  but  in 
the  same  ballad  there  is  evidence  of  a  subtle  though 
perhaps  unconscious  artistic  skill.  Nowhere  are  repetitions 
more  skilfully  handled.  Compare  the  mounting  of  the 
lovers  when  their  flight  begins  and  after  the  death  of  the 
lady's  brothers : — 

"  He's  mounted  her  on  a  milk-white  steed, 
And  himself  on  a  dappled  grey, 
With   a  buglet  horn  hung  down  by  his  side, 
And  lightly  they  rode  away." 

This  stanza  repeated  afterwards  with  the  single  change  of 
"lightly"  in  the  last  line  into  "slowly,"  is  far  more  effective 
than  any  attempt  to  give  variety  could  be. 

Not  infrequently  the  action  narrated  is  of  the  most 
barbarous  cruelty.  Of  this  character  is  the  story  of 
Edom  o'  Gordon — in  which  a  lady  is  shut  up  with  her 
children  in  her  castle,  and  there  burnt  to  death.  But  in 
the  description  of  the  fate  of  the  daughter  the  poet  has  the 
skill  to  turn  cruelty  into  pathos  : — 

"  O  then  bespake  her  daughter  dear. 
She  was  baith  jimp  and  sma', 
'  O  row  me  in  a  pair  o'  shiets, 
And  tow  me  ower  the  wa'.' 


1 88  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

"They  rowd  her  in  a  pair  of  shiets 
And  towd  her  ower  the  wa', 
But,  on  the  point  of  Edom's  speir, 
She  gat  a  deadly  fa'. 

"  O  bonny,  bonny  was  hir  mouth, 
And  chirry  were  hir  cheiks, 
And  cleir,  cleir  was  hir  zellow  hair, 
Whereon  the  red  bUiid  dreips. 

"  Then  wi'  the  speir  he  turn'd  hir  ower, 

0  gin  hir  face  was  wan  ! 

He  said,    '  Zow  are  the  first  that  e'er 

1  wisht  alive  again  ! 

"  He  turn'd  hir  ower  and  ower  again  ; 
O  gin  hir  skin  was  whyte  ! 
He  said,    '  1  might  ha  spard  thy  life, 
To  been  some  man's  delyte. '  " 

In  comparatively  rare  cases  the  whole  motive  of  the 
ballad  is  sentimental,  so  that  it  stands  in  close  affinity 
with  the  song.  It  is  frequently  so  with  the  Yarrow 
ballads;  and  there  is  no  better  or  more  touching  example 
than  the  Border  Widoivs  Lamefit.  Motherwell  thought 
it  was  "nothing  else  than  a  fragment  of  the  English 
ballad,  entitled  The  famous  Flower  of  Serving  Men; 
or,  the  Lady  turn'd  Serving  Man.''  If  so,  a  poet  has 
been  at  work  on  the  original,  and  has  made  the  story 
his  own.  The  famous  Flower  of  Serving  Men  is  a  weak 
absurd  piece,  containing  some  lines  which  appear  in  the 
Border  Widow,  but  entirely  destitute  of  its  beauty.  The 
Lament,  as  it  appears  in  the  Minstrelsy,  is  so  fine  that, 
well  known  though  it  is,  it  must  be  quoted  entire  as  an 
unapproached  example  of  one  kind  of  ballad : — 

"  My  luve  he  built  me  a  bonny  bower. 
And  clad  it  a'  wi'  lilye  flour 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  1 89 

A  bravver  bovver  ye  ne'er  did  see, 
Than  my  true  luve  he  built  for   me. 

"  There  came  a  man,   by  middle  day, 
He  spied  his  sport,  and  went  away ; 
And  brought  the  king  that   very  night. 

Who  brake  my  bower,  and  slew  my  knight. 

"  He  slew  my  knight,  to  me  sae  dear  ; 

He  slew  my  knight,  and  poin'd  his  gear. 
My  servants  all  for  life  did  flee. 
And  left  me  in  extremetie. 

"  I  sew'd  his  sheet,  making  my  mane  ; 
I  watch'd  the  corpse,   myself  alane  ; 
I   watch'd  his  body,   night  and  day  ; 
No  living  creature  came  that  way. 

"  I  took  his  body  on  my  back, 

And  whiles  I  gaed,  and  whiles  I  sat  ; 
I  digg'd  a  grave,   and  laid  him  in. 

And  happ'd  him  with  the  sod  sae  green. 

"  But  think   na  ye  my  heart   was  sair. 

When  I  laid  the  moul'  on  his  yellow  hair  ; 
O  think  na  ye  my  heart  was  wae, 
W^hen  I  turn'd  about,  away  to  gae  ? 

"  Nae  living  man  I'll  love  again, 

Since  that  my  lovely  knight  is  slain  ; 
Wi'  ae  lock  of  his  yellow  hair, 
I'll  chain  my  heart  for  evermair. " 

Enough  perhaps  has  been  said  to  prove  that  the 
ballads,  notwithstanding  the  limitation  of  their  range,  are 
far  from  being  destitute  of  variety.  There  remains  how- 
ever one  feature  in  them,  an  occasional  one,  which  is 
worthy  of  special  mention,  because  it  is  little  recognised. 
It  is  the  truth  and  beauty  of  their  incidental  references 
to  nature.  Such  references  always  are  incidental,  for  no 
ballad-maker     takes     inanimate     nature    for    his     subject. 


190  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

Still,  the  natural  surroundings  of  the  heroes  could  not  be 
ignored,  and  they  are  touched  skilfully  though  cursorily. 
Sometimes  the  powers  of  nature  are  interpreted  as  spirit : 
behind  the  storm  is  dimly  seen  the  figure  of  the  water- 
kelpie  ;  the  glamour  of  light  and  shadow  in  woodland 
and  glade  is  explained  by  the  myth  of  the  fairies.  In 
other  cases  the  indiscriminate  application  of  conventional 
epithets  seems  to  indicate  a  certain  obtuseness  of  sense. 
Nearly  every  river  is  a  "wan  water,"  an  epithet  which  by 
frequent  and  indiscriminate  use  lost  whatever  meaning 
it  may  have  had  at  first.  Yet  sometimes  the  ballad- 
maker  shows  a  keen  eye  for  the  facts  of  the  world 
around  him,  a  sympathetic  sense  of  their  relation  to 
humanity,  and  great  felicity  in  the  use  of  descriptive 
language.  The  line  in  Young  Tamlane^  "  A  north  wind 
tore  the  bent,"  is,  as  Professor  Veitch  has  pointed  out, 
unsurpassed  for  pictorial  truth.  The  "bent"  is  the  tall 
coarse  grass  of  upland  pastures ;  and  every  one  familiar 
with  such  scenes  knows  how  truly  the  effect  of  a  strong 
wind,  unbroken  as  it  is  in  such  places  by  tree  or  hedge 
or  shelter  of  any  kind,  is  here  given.  In  Sir  Patrick  Spens 
a  single  word  gives  a  perfect  picture  of  the  ocean  rising 
into  storm — "gurly  grew  the  sea";  and  one  of  the  lines 
quoted  from  Jamie  Telfer  conveys  an  impression  hardly 
less  vivid  of  another  scene — "'twas  the  gryming  of  a 
new-fa'n  snaw."  In  the  last-mentioned  ballad  should  also 
be  noted  the  artistic  skill  which  surrounds  the  harried 
man  with  just  the  scenes  most  consonant  with  his  desolate 
condition — utter  darkness — "the  sun  wasna  up  but  the 
moon  was  down," — and  that  peculiarly  comfortless  lands- 
cape which  has  neither  the  brightness  of  a  perfect  covering 


THE  POPULAR  BALLADS.  I9I 

of  snow  nor  the  warmth  of  the  fully  visible  herbage.  In 
the  Yarrow  ballads  again  there  is  an  identification  of  the 
spirit  of  the  scenery  with  the  character  of  the  action  in 
which  Wordsworth  recognised  something  kindred  to  his 
own  method.  They  are  all  pathetic,  and  the  scenes  are 
the  "  dowie  dens "  of  Yarrow.  They  are  not  exactly 
descriptive  ballads,  but  they  exhibit  what  is  rarer,  a  sense 
of  the  unity  under  difference  of  man  and  nature.  Human 
passions  and  emotions  are  read  into  the  scenes  in  which 
they  are  displayed. 

Though  the  allusions  to  nature  then  are  not  very 
numerous,  they  have  where  they  occur  the  accent  of 
truth.  It  is  strange  that  this  cannot  be  said  of  the 
humour  of  the  ballads.  There  is  a  strain  of  true  humour 
in  tne  songs  from  the  earliest  date,  but  in  the  ballads  it 
is  forced  and  inferior.  Why  this  should  be  it  is  difficult 
to  say;  but  the  fact  will  hardly  be  disputed  by  any  one 
familiar  with  Scottish  ballad  literature.  Mirth  is  rare  in 
it,  and  pieces,  such  as  The  Lodwiaben  Harper^  which 
attempt  to  be  mirthful,  never  rise  to  the  level  of  those 
of  a  more  serious  cast.  Even  humorous  touches  in  ballads 
prevailingly  serious,  like  Thomas  the  Rhymer's  rejection 
of  the  "tongue  that  can  never  lie,"  on  the  ground  that  it 
would  hamper  him  in  his  dealings  in  the  market,  are  rare. 

The  old  ballads,  whose  main  features  have  just  been 
touched  upon,  having  sprung  as  it  were  spontaneously 
into  existence,  remained  for  generations  the  literature  of 
the  people.  It  was  fortunate  that  they  kept  their  hold 
upon  the  popular  taste  and  their  place  in  the  popular 
memory;  for  they  were  the  means  of  preserving  poetic 
feeling  and  a  poetic  tradition  through  ages  most  inimical 


1 92  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

to  every  form  of  art;  and  when  at  last  Scottish  literature 
revived,  great  part  of  its  inspiration  was  drawn  from  this 
source  and  from  the  kindred  legacy  of  song  which  had 
likewise  been  handed  down  traditionally.  It  was  both 
natural  and  fortunate  that  the  new  poets,  who  felt  the 
merits  of  the  work  of  their  nameless  predecessors,  should 
attempt  imitation.  The  Scotch  writers — Ramsay,  Thomson, 
Fergusson,  Burns — just  because  they  drank  the  waters  of 
this  fresh  spring,  helped  to  lead  English  poetry  back  to 
nature.  Yet  the  imitation  was  not  successful  except  in 
the  department  of  song,  which,  in  the  hands  of  Burns, 
rose  to  higher  excellence  than  it  had  ever  before  attained. 
The  modern  ballads  cannot  be  said  to  surpass  or  even 
to  equal  their  originals,  though  there  are  some  fine 
specimens  amongst  them,  from  Hardykyiute  down  to  those 
of  Scott  and  Hogg.  There  is  a  tendency  even  in  the 
most  skilful  imitators  to  trick  and  frounce  the  ballad. 
It  becomes  smoother  and  more  graceful ;  but  the  loss  of 
the  old  simplicity  and  directness  more  than  balances  all 
that  is  gained.  The  reason  is  no  doubt  that  circumstances 
had  changed.  The  conditions  under  which  the  ballad  was 
naturally  produced  had  passed  away,  it  had  become  an 
exotic.  Not  so  with  the  songs.  Song-writing  was  still  a 
living  form  of  literature;  and  accordingly  Burns  and  the 
others  who  have  re-created  Scottish  song  for  modern  times 
had  simply  to  follow  in  the  old  track.  But  the  ballad 
required  transformation ;  and  it  is  only  in  Scott's  Lay 
and  his  later  poems  that  it  worthily  re-appears  in  modem 
literature.  They  embody  the  spirit  of  the  ballad ;  but  the 
form  is  modified,  the  artificiality  of  mere  imitation  shaken 
off,  and  freedom,  spirit,  and  naturalness  reign  again. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE  EARLIER  SONGS. 

The  relation  between  the  songs  of  Scotland  and  the 
ballads  is  a  very  intimate  one.  They  are  alike  popular 
in  their  character,  were  alike  committed  to  tradition, 
and  they  have  performed  similar  services  in  bringing  about 
the  revival  of  national  poetry.  But  there  are  differences 
in  their  history  as  well  as  in  their  nature.  On  the  one 
hand,  there  is  more  old  documentary  evidence  for  the 
existence  of  songs  than  of  ballads,  and  they  also  began 
to  be  collected  sooner  than  the  ballads.  None  of  the 
editors  previous  to  Herd  gives  any  considerable  number 
of  ballads,  and  no  really  large  collection  appeared  until 
the  issue  of  the  Border  Minstrelsy ;  but  from  Ramsay 
downwards  the  song  books  were  numerous  and  copious. 
Yet  it  is  true  of  the  songs  as  of  the  ballads  that  in  the 
shape  in  which  we  now  know  them  they  are  almost  all 
comparatively  recent;  and  it  is  probable  that  there  are 
among  them  fewer  relics  of  genuine  antiquity  than  among 
the  ballads.  The  earliest  traces  of  their  existence  are 
generally  vague.  Certain  names  preserved  in  The  Tale 
of  Colkelbie  Sow  and  the  prologues  to  Gavin  Douglas's 
Aeneid,    throw    a    feeble    ray    of    light    on    the    subject. 

N 


194  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

The  Complaynt  of  Scotland  too,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
ballads,  has  handed  down  the  names  at  least  of  a  num- 
ber of  songs ;  and  The  Gtide  and  Godly  Ballaies,  in  an 
indirect  way,  have  done  more ;  for,  as  parodies,  they 
preserve  some  knowledge  of  the  structure  of  the  originals 
on  which  they  were  founded.  But  though  there  is 
abundant  proof  of  the  existence  of  a  considerable  number 
of  songs  at  least  as  early  as  the  beginning  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  and  though  traces  are  found  of  a  few  of 
yet  older  date,  it  is  as  a  rule  impossible  to  recover  the 
original  words  of  these  songs.  The  late  Principal  Shairp 
speaks  on  this  point  rather  too  strongly  in  his  essay, 
The  Songs  of  Scotland  before  Burns.  "The  oldest  extant 
songs,"  says  he,  "cannot  be  proved  at  least  to  have 
existed  before  the  year  1600."  Now,  that  this  statement 
may  be  brought  even  near  the  truth  it  is  necessary  to 
understand  the  name  "  song "  to  be  strictly  confined  to 
verses  set  to  music  and  habitually  sung  by  the  people. 
Of  lyrical  compositions  having  all  the  characteristics  of 
songs  there  are  plenty  in  the  Bannatyne  MS.  Many  of 
these  lyrics  however  are  literary  exercises  which  were 
probably  never  known  to  the  j^eople,  and  were  perhaps 
not  in  Shairp's  mind  as  "  songs "  when  he  wrote  the 
sentence  quoted.  But  even  in  the  most  restricted  sense 
that  can  be  assigned  to  it  the  statement  is  not  accurate. 
There  are  still  extant  Scotch  songs  of  a  popular  char- 
acter which  can  be  traced  considerably  beyond  the  year 
1600.  The  verses  in  praise  of  Allane  Matson  (probably 
the    oldest    form    of    the    ballad    of    John    Barleycorn)^ 

'  There  are  several  versions  of  John  Barleycorn  in   the   Roxburgh 
Ballads.      Chappell   there   says   the   oldest    copy   is    of  the   reign   of 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  195 

may  be  refused  the  title  of  a  song ;  and  the  Wyf  of 
Attchtermochiy,  an  old  version  of  the  still  well-known 
John  Grumbly,  likewise  partakes  of  the  nature  of  a 
ballad.  The  following  lines  from  it  however  prove  its 
connexion  with  a  piece  which  is  still  popularly  sung  : — 

"Than  vp  he  gat  on  ane  know  heid, 
On  hir  to  cray,  on  hir  to  schowt, 
Scho  hard  him,  and  scho  hard  him  not, 
Bot  stowtly  steird  the  stottis  abowt. 
Scho  draif  the  day  vnto  the  nicht, 
Scho  lowisit  the  plwch  and  syne  come  hame ; 
Scho  fand  all  wrang  that  sowld  bene  richt, 
I  trow  the  man  thocht  richt  grit  schame." 

If  the  ascription  of  this  piece  to  Moffat,  which  is  made 
in  the  Bannatyne  MS.,  but  not  in  the  hand  of  Banna- 
tyne,  be  correct,  it  belongs  to  the  early  part  of  the 
sixteenth  century ;  and  in  any  case  it  is  over  thirty 
years  anterior  to  1600.  There  is  also  the  lively  and 
amusing  song  oi  Johne  Blyth,^  which  resembles  the  song 
in  Gammer  Gurtons  Needle,  "Back  and  side  go  bare,  go 
bare."     One  stanza  runs  as  follows : — 

"For  all  the  wrak  a  wreche  can  pak, 
And  in  his  baggis  imbrace, 
Yit  Deid  sail  tak  him  be  the  bak, 
And  gar  him  cry  Allace  ! 
Than  sail  he  frak  away  with  lak, 
And  wait  nocht  to  quhat  place ; 
Than  will  they  mak  at  him  a  knak, 

James  I.  (of  England),  but  doubts  its  southern  origin.  The  Bannatyne 
MS.  version,  in  which  the  ideas  at  any  rate  are  essentially  similar, 
is  of  course  older  still,  and  supports  the  notion  of  a  northern  origin. 

^  The   name,    like   Allane  Matson,    is   evidently   descriptive   of  the 
character  of  the  verses. 


196  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

That  maist  of  his  gud  haiss  : 

With  ane  O  and  ane  I,  quhile  we  haif  tyme  and  space, 

Mak  we  gud  cheir  quhile  we  art  heir 

And  thank  God  of  his  grace." 

T/ie  Wowing  of  /ok  and  Jyjiny  is  another  humorous  old 
song,  the  strain  of  which  has  been  transmitted  to  much 
more  recent  verses  : — 

"  Robeyn's  Jok  come  to  wow  our  Jynny 
On  our  feist  evin  quhen  we  wer  fow ; 
Scho  brankit  fast  and  maid  hir  bony, 
And  said,  Jok,  come  ye  for  to  wow  ? 
Scho  birneist  her,  baith  breist  and  brow, 
And  maid  hir  cleir  as  ony  clok ; 
Than  spak  hir  deme,  and  said,  I  trow 
Ye  come  to  wow  our  Jynny,  Jok." 

Again,  there  is  another  piece  beginning,  "Was  nocht  gud 
King  Solomon,"  to  which  is  attached  a  refrain  which 
nearly  corresponds  to  one  still  known  in  popular  Scottish 
song : — 

"Gif  this  be  trew,  trew  as  it  wass,  lady,  lady, 
Suld  nocht  I  scherwe  yow,  allace,  my  fair  lady?" 

This,  however,  is  ascribed  in  a  later  hand  to  "ane  Inglis- 
man."  And  once  more,  one  of  the  popular  tunes,  "  Hay, 
now  the  day  dauis,"  is  not  only  fitted  to  a  set  of  verses 
in  The  Gude  and  Godly  Baliates,  but,  though  the  original 
words  are  lost,  has  received  from  the  pen  of  Alexander 
Montgomery  words  not  of  the  nature  of  a  parody. 

It  appears  then  that  Shairp's  statement  is  made  in  terms 
too  absolute  :  there  are  a  certain  number  of  Scottish 
songs  which  can  be  traced  well  into  the  sixteenth  century. 
Nevertheless,  such  remnants  of  an  older  time  are  far  too 
rare.      The  inquirer   who  gropes  back  beyond   the   union 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  197 

of  the  Crowns  has  not  only  as  a  rule  to  be  content  with 
mere  names,  but  has  also  to  face  the  difficulty  of  deter- 
mining the  nationality  of  the  tunes  and  songs  indicated 
by  those  names.  There  long  prevailed  the  uncritical 
practice,  encouraged  by  the  belief  that  England  was  nearly 
destitute  of  popular  music  and  poetry,  of  assuming  that 
whatever  was  mentioned  by  a  Scottish  authority  must 
necessarily  belong  to  Scotland.  It  has  now  however 
been  proved  that  in  England  popular  songs,  though  most  of 
them  have  sunk  into  oblivion  and  are  now  known  only  to 
students,  did  at  one  time  exist  in  plenty.  Further,  some 
English  songs  were  popular  in  Scotland  at  least  as  far 
back  as  the  fifteenth  century.  Care  must  therefore  be 
taken  not  to  ascribe  to  Scotland  that  which  is  really 
English.  The  critical  examination  to  which  the  list  in 
The  Coviplaynt  of  Scotland  has  been  subjected  has  resulted 
in  the  discovery  in  it  of  several  English  tunes.  A  similar 
doubt  as  to  origin  overhangs  those  which  appear  in  more 
recent  collections ;  and  the  difficulty  has  been  increased 
by  the  fact  that  when,  after  the  Restoration,  Scotch  music 
became  fashionable  in  England,  English  literary  hacks 
took  to  manufacturing  Scotch  songs.^ 

^  The  competence  of  Durfey  and  his  fellows  to  manufacture  Scotch 
songs  may  be  gauged  by  their  treatment  of  The  Blythsome  Wedding. 
In  the  Pills  to  Purge  Melancholy,  there  is  a  song  entitled  The  Scotch 
Wedding,  which  is  simply  The  Blythsome  Wedding  in  an  extraordinary 
tongue  which  the  Cockneys  of  that  day  were  pleased  to  call  Scotch. 
In  this  ridiculous  piece  the  nervous  phrases  of  the  old  song  are 
turned  into  veritable  nonsense.  "  Plouckie  fac'd  Wat  in  the  Mill" 
becomes  "pluggy  fac'd";  "breeks"  are  changed  to  "brick"  in  a 
context  which  makes  the  word  senseless;  "  Girn-again  Gibby" 
becomes  "Jenny  go  Gibby";  "  fouth  of  good  gappocks  of  skate," 
"fish  of  geud  Gabback  and  Skate";  "  povvsodie,"  "prosody,"  etc., 


198  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

Commonly  the  music  of  the  songs  can  be  traced 
farther  back  than  the  words,  and  is  the  subject  of  more 
doubt.  The  history  of  English  tunes  has  been  carefully 
investigated  by  Chappell  in  his  Popular  Music  of  the 
Oldcfi  Time;  and  incidentally,  though  for  the  most  part 
in  a  negative  way,  he  throws  some  valuable  light  on 
the  question  of  Scottish  jaiusic.  Of  Scottish  authorities, 
G.  Farquhar  Graham  is  the  most  trustworthy.  Earlier 
inquirers,  as  Chappell  justly  complains,  have  been  either 
biassed  by  national  prejudice,  or  grossly  ignorant  if  not 
wilfully  false.  On  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  questioned 
whether  the  English  writers  on  the  subject  have  been 
themselves  free  from  bias.  They  rely  too  much  upon 
the  oldest  MS.  copies  of  songs  or  tunes,  forgetting  that 

etc.  If  a  Scotch  copy  older  than  Durfey  did  not  exist,  it  would  be 
necessary,  on  the  reasoning  of  Chappell,  to  assume  the  version  in  the 
Pills  to  be  the  original.  He  has  done  so  in  the  case  of  Bonny 
Dundee.     The  first  four  lines  in  Durfey  run  thus  : — 

"Where  gottest  thou  that  Haver-mill  bonack? 
Blind  Booby  canst  thou  not  see ; 
Ise  got  it  out  of  the  Scotch-man's  wallet, 
As  he  lig  lousing  him  under  a  tree." 

Herd's  version  is  as  follows  : — 

"0  whar  did  ye  get  that  hauver-ineal  bannock? 
O  silly  blind  body,  O  dinna  ye  see, 
I  got  it  frae  a  young  brisk  sodger  laddie 
Betwixt  St.  Johnston  and  bonny  Dundee." 

The  "Haver-mill  bonack"  is  quite  sufficient  to  dispose  of  Durfey's 
title  to  originality.  He  gives  the  refrain,  "Come  fill  up  my  cup,"  etc., 
which  is  not  in  Herd.  The  rest  of  his  song  has  no  connexion  with 
Herd's  version  ;  it  is  merely  a  specimen  of  the  silly  lewdness  which 
pleased  his  audience;  and  the  "  Scotification  "  consists  in  the  use  of 
the  name  Sawney,  "Ise"  for  "I,"  etc. 


1 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  1 99 

allusions  still  older,  if  it  can  be  established  that  they  are 
allusions  to  the  same  songs  or  tunes,  are  evidence  equally 
valuable.  Chappell,  for  example,  lays  some  stress  on  the 
fact  that  Johne,  come  kiss  7ne  ?iow,  which  appears  in  an 
English  publication  of  1666,  is  not  found  in  any  Scotch 
copy  older  than  a  MS.  which  he  dates  as  late  as  1745- 
This  is  not  much  to  the  point ;  for  Johtte,  cowe  kiss  me 
now  was  known  in  Scotland,  and  was  sufficiently  popular 
there  to  afford  matter  for  the  parodist,  about  the  middle 
of  the  sixteenth  century ;  and  the  mere  existence  of  a 
Scotch  copy  of  that  date  would  in  itself  prove  no  more. 
It  may  not  be  Scotch,  but  its  publication  in  England  in 
1666  clearly  affords  little  or  no  presumption  that  it  is 
English ;  while  popular  familiarity  with  it  (which  may  be 
inferred  from  the  fact  that  it  was  parodied)  in  Scotland  a 
century  earlier  seems  to  turn  the  presumption  quite  the 
other  way.  Much  the  same  may  be  said  on  the  subject 
of  the  tune  of  The  Broom  of  Cowdenk/io7vs.  It  is  pointed 
out  that  the  Scotch  song  to  this  tune  was  classed  in  The 
Tea  Table  Miscellany  as  new.  But  in  the  oldest  known 
piece  which  is  set  to  it,  the  English  song  of  The  Lovely 
Norther?!  Lass,  it  is  mentioned  as  "a  pleasant  Scotch 
tune  called  the  Broom  of  Cowdenknows."  The  word 
Scotch  may  mean  here,  as  it  does  frequently,  "  rustic," 
and  it  would  be  unsafe  to  found  upon  the  use  of  it ;  but 
the  occurrence  of  the  word  Cowdenknows,  the  name  of 
a  place  about  four  miles  from  Melrose,  cannot  be  so  ex- 
plained away.  This  tune  is  supposed  to  be  the  same  as 
one  referred  to  by  Laneham  under  the  name  of  Broom, 
broom  on  hil.  There  is  no  evidence  of  identity  beyond 
the  similarity  of  name,  a  kind  of  argument  which  is  scorn- 


200  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

fully  rejected  in  other  cases;  but  even  if  there  were,  The 
Complaynt  of  Scotland,  which  also  refers  to  Brume,  brume 
on  hil,  carries  us  back  a  quarter  of  a  century  beyond 
Laneham.  The  evidence — the  most  ancient  reference,  the 
name  of  the  locality  with  which  it  is  associated,  and  the 
description  of  it  as  "a  pleasant  Scotch  tune" — seems  all 
in  favour  of  a  Scottish  origin  ;  and  yet  Mr.  Furnivall,  in 
his  edition  of  Captain  Cox,  his  Ballads  and  Books,  marks 
it  without  note  of  doubt  as  EngHsh.  Where  is  the  proof? 
In  the  reasonings  of  Chappell  and  Mr.  Furnivall  on  this 
subject  there  seems  to  be  a  premise,  generally  suppressed, 
to  the  effect  that  Scotch  tunes  did  not  take  root  in 
England  much  before  1660:  therefore,  the  argument 
would  run,  if  a  tune  or  a  song  is  found  common  to  the 
two  countries  before  that  time,  it  must  have  travelled 
from  England  to  Scotland,  not  in  the  opposite  direction. 
This  is  a  gratuitous  assumption.  The  English  critics,  in 
concluding  that  tunes  and  songs  for  which  there  is  English 
authority  must  be  English,  are  guilty  of  just  the  same 
fallacy  which  they  fairly  allege  against  their  Scottish  pre- 
decessors. Those  very  musicians,  upon  whose  early  pre- 
sence at  the  Scottish  court  Chappell  insists,  might  be 
the  means  of  importing  into  England  a  knowledge  of 
Scottish  songs.  It  assuredly  cannot  be  proved,  and  it  is 
in  itself  improbable,  that  all  the  Englishmen  died  in  the 
country  to  which  they  had  migrated;  and  if  any  of  them 
returned,  what  more  natural  than  that  they  should  bear 
back  a  knowledge  of  the  tunes  of  the  north,  just  as  they 
seem  to  have  made  Scotland  familiar  with  some  of  English 
origin?  Every  avenue  of  intercourse  from  north  to  south 
opens  a  similar  possibility. 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  201 

The  subject  of  national  music  is  however  one  into 
which  there  is  no  need  to  enter  here.  It  is  to  the  point 
only  in  so  far  as  the  tunes  may  be  the  means  of  tracing 
the  history  of  the  words ;  and  the  questions  in  dispute 
among  the  musicians  are  for  the  present  purpose  the  less 
important,  because  very  frequently  where  the  origin  of 
the  tune  is  doubtful  no  such  doubt  attaches  to  the 
words.  It  will  be  sufficient  therefore  to  state  what 
evidence  of  old  date  there  is  of  the  existence  of  Scottish 
tunes.  The  Complaynt  bears  witness  at  once  to  words 
and  music.  Tlie  Tale  of  Colkelbie  Sow  proves  the  exist- 
ence at  least  of  the  tunes.  But  no  copies  of  Scottish 
music  are  known  of  nearly  so  great  antiquity,  none  which 
date  farther  back  than  the  seventeenth  century.  Perhaps 
the  oldest  is  the  Straloch  MS.,  dated  1627-9.  The 
Skene  MSS.,  for  which  a  greater  antiquity  was  claimed 
by  Stenhouse,  are  believed  by  the  best  judges  to  be  at 
least  as  late  as  1630-40.  A  MS.  now  lost,  which  was  in 
Stenhouse's  possession,  .was  by  him  referred  to  the 
beginning  of  the  reign  of  James  VI. ;  but  as  he  was  too 
untrustworthy  to  be  himself  accepted  as  an  authority, 
and  as  there  is  now  no  means  of  checking  his  opinion, 
it  must  be  disregarded.  Another  collection  known  as 
the  Rowallan  MS.,  which  belonged  to  Sir  William  Mure, 
who  died  in  1657,  is  unimportant  because  chiefly  made 
up  of  foreign  material.  These  are  the  oldest  extant 
repositories  of  Scottish  music.  Through  them  and  a  few 
other  MSS.  of  somewhat  later  date  it  is  possible  to  trace 
back  into  the  seventeenth  century  a  considerable  number 
of  tunes.  In  some  cases  the  songs  sung  to  those  tunes 
first  appeared   in   Ramsay;    and   where    these   songs   are 


202  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

marked  as   old,  it   is  fair  to  regard   the  music   books   as 
supporting  their  antiquity. 

These  two  lines   of  evidence,  the   one   relating   to   the 
words,  the  other  to  the  music,  do  not  after   all    establish 
any  considerable  antiquity.     That    there  were   songs  cen- 
turies   earlier    than    the    period    to    which    they    reach   is 
certain  :  the  often-quoted  fragments  on  Edward  I.  and  on 
Bannockburn    prove   that ;    but    the   very   frequency  with 
which    those    fragments     are     quoted    also    proves    how 
scanty    are    the    remains.       Practically,    for    the    modern 
student,    Scottish    song   begins    in    the   sixteenth   century, 
and  it  has  no  considerable   volume   till   the   beginning  of 
the  eighteenth.     How  far  back   the   old   songs   recovered 
by  the  eighteenth   century    collectors   may   date   it  is  im- 
possible to  say.      We   have   seldom  the  means  of  tracing 
them  even  inferentially  as  we  have  in  the  case  of  several 
of  the  ballads.     Few    of   them    before    the    times    of  the 
Jacobite    risings    are    historical;    and    few    of  them    even 
embody  facts  of  a  traditionary  character.     Probably  many 
were   in    existence    generations    before    they   appeared   in 
print;    but    it    is    impossible    as    a    rule    to    discriminate 
between  pieces  of  immemorial  antiquity   and  those  which 
are    by    comparison    but    of   yesterday.      The   term  "  old 
song  "  is  elastic ;    and  the  early  collectors  have  generally 
given  no  other  means,  if  they  possessed   any  themselves, 
of  determining  age.     The  pieces  preserved    by   their  care 
must  be  regarded    somewhat    differently   from  the  ballads 
gathered    by    Scott    and    others.      It    has    been    already 
pointed  out  that  there  is  reason   to   suppose  that    ballad- 
making  had  ceased  for  some  time  before  ballad-collecting 
began ;    so    that    unless    we    adopt    the    Lady    Wardlaw 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  203 

hypothesis  or  some  equivalent,  the  natural  inference  must 
be  that  a  ballad  preserved  in  the  popular  memory  is  of 
respectable  antiquity.  But  the  production  of  songs  has 
never  ceased  to  the  present  day.  Further,  it  is  known 
that  when  the  merit  of  the  old  songs  began  to  be  per- 
ceived and  interest  in  them  to  grow,  men  became  aware 
also  that  many  of  them  were  too  coarse  even  for  the 
not  very  squeamish  society  of  some  two  hundred  years 
ago.  The  remark,  more  than  once  quoted  since,  of 
William  Geddes  in  his  Saifits'  Recreation  expresses  the 
opinion  held  by  many.  He  says  it  is  alleged  by  some 
"  that  many  of  our  ayres  or  tunes  are  made  by  good 
angels,  but  the  letters  or  lines  of  our  songs  by  devils." 
To  preserve  the  angelic  part  new  words  were  written, 
which  had  often  the  effect  of  consigning  the  old  to 
oblivion ;  and  thus  even  when  it  can  be  proved  that  an 
old  song  to  a  particular  tune  existed,  there  remains  a 
doubt  whether  the  words  which  may  still  survive  are  the 
old  song  in  question. 

Many,  therefore,  of  the  old  songs  have  disappeared ; 
the  history  of  others  is  shrouded  in  doubt;  and  there 
are  only  a  few  which  can  be  traced  back  much  beyond 
two  hundred  years.  But  while  everyone  must  deeply  re- 
gret the  loss  of  memorials  of  the  past  which  would  have 
been  interesting  alike  to  the  philologist,  to  the  student 
of  life  and  manners,  and  to  the  student  of  literature,  it 
may  be  questioned  whether  as  much  poetry  has  perished 
with  them  as  is  commonly  supposed.  It  is  a  known 
fact  that  ballads  tend  to  deteriorate  from  age  to  age, 
and  that  when  an  older  version  is  recovered  it  generally 
shows    a    force    and    fire    far    beyond    anything    in    the 


204  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

modernised  copy — witness  the  difference  between  the 
ancient  Hunting  of  the  Cheviot,  and  the  more  recent 
Chevy  Chase.  That  a  similar  deterioration  has  taken 
place  in  some  of  the  songs  is  equally  certain.  Allan 
Ramsay  and  those  coadjutors  who  in  the  early  part  of 
the  eighteenth  century  supplied  so  many  new  verses  to 
the  old  tunes,  were  by  no  means  gifted  with  the  sure 
taste  afterwards  displayed  by  Burns  in  performing  the 
same  task.  In  some  instances,  where  the  unsophisticated 
song  exists,  the  inferiority  of  the  additions  may  be  de- 
monstrated ;  in  other  cases  there  is  great  reason  to 
suspect  similar  inferiority.  Nevertheless  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  the  course  of  the  songs  has  been  on  the  whole, 
like  that  of  the  ballads,  downward.  That  Burns  adorned 
nearly  every  old  song  he  touched  is  unquestionable ;  and 
so  did  Baroness  Nairne  and  the  other  ladies  who  with 
her  attempted  to  substitute  purity  for  licentiousness,  and 
innocent  mirth  for  scurrility  and  low  buffoonery.  It  is 
certain  that  the  songs  have  been  raised  in  moral  tone. 
There  is  only  too  much  reason  to  believe  that  the  old 
words  sung  by  the  peasantry  were  in  general  very  coarse. 
Neither  Burns  nor  Allan  Ramsay  was  given  to  straining 
at  gnats ;  but  they  felt,  in  common  with  all  who  have 
laboured  in  the  same  field,  that  the  rustic  muse  over- 
stepped too  far  the  bounds  of  decency.  When  this  is 
the  case  it  is  generally  found  that  licentiousness  of 
language  is  the  only  raiso?i  d'etre  of  the  piece,  those  to 
whom  it  is  addressed  neither  desiring  nor  understanding 
the  beauties  of  poetry ;  and  it  may  be  suspected  that 
such  "  high-kilted  "  pieces  are,  for  their  intrinsic  merits  as 
verse,  no  great  loss  to  the  world. 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  205 

It  is  not  however  to  be  supposed  that  all  in  the  old 
songs  was  worthless,  feeble,  or  purely  licentious.  Burns, 
an  excellent,  though  perhaps  a  prejudiced  judge,  spoke 
of  the  forgotten  authors  of  those  nameless  old  lyrics  as 
men  of  genius ;  and  there  is  much  in  the  remains, 
especially  perhaps  in  the  remains  of  the  songs  of 
humour,  to  justify  this  strong  language.  It  has  been 
necessary  to  point  out  that  the  ballads  are  poor  in 
humour.  Not  so  the  songs,  they  are  brimming  over  with 
it.  The  song  is  a  better  vehicle  for  mirth  than  the 
ballad.  Humour  springs  from  the  mode  in  which  the 
poet  views  his  subject ;  it  is  not  naturally  part  of  a 
narrative  of  facts,  but  a  way  of  regarding  events  or  life. 
The  ballad  method  of  narrative,  therefore,  is  unfavourable 
to  it ;  but  not  so  the  lyric  appeal  to  sentiment.  The 
chorus  of  the  song  too  is  helpful ;  it  enlists  the  sympathy 
of  the  audience  by  making  them  partakers  of  the  fun. 
Had  not  the  quality  of  humour  appeared  where  it  does  the 
literature  of  the  people  would  in  this  respect  have  been 
inexplicably  untrue  to  the  national  character,  and  inex- 
plicably different  from  the  more  formal  parts  of  the  national 
literature.  Notwithstanding  all  the  jests  levelled  at  the 
dense  impenetrability  to  fun  which  is  said  to  be  a  mark 
of  the  Scot,  humour  has  been  a  quality  always  exceedingly 
prominent  in  Scottish  literary  men.  In  Dunbar,  in  Lindsay, 
in  Buchanan,  in  Knox,  in  Burns,  in  Scott,  in  Carlyle,  in 
almost  every  Scotchman  of  note  in  literature  there  is  a 
deep  and  rich  vein  of  it.  There  is  a  vein  no  less  rich 
in  popular  song ;  and  it  is  all  the  more  interesting  to 
note  it  because  many  of  the  songs  were  apparently  pro- 
duced   under    circumstances    extremely    unfavourable    to 


206  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

everything  light-hearted.  The  Reformed  Kirk  denounced 
the  curse  of  God  not  only  against  the  sins  of  the  people, 
but  too  often  against  their  harmless  mirth.  How  dis- 
astrous was  the  effect  of  those  denunciations  upon  the 
recognised  literature  of  the  country  is  evident  from  the 
great  blank  in  literature  which  the  seventeenth  century 
shows.  Nothing  that  was  merely  worldly,  or  was  regarded 
as  such  by  the  bigot,  had  a  fair  chance,  unless  it  was 
too  obscure  to  catch  his  eye.  Happily,  the  song-writers 
were  too  obscure.  Some  indeed  of  the  popular  bards 
incurred  punishment,  but  generally  they  presented  a  target 
too  small  for  clerical  shot.  They  made  excellent  use  of 
their  immunity.  Whoever  has  formed  an  idea  of  the 
Scotchman  as  a  solemn,  saturnine  animal,  incapable  of 
laughter,  and  finding  life  "  fu'  o'  sairiousness,"  will  be 
astonished  at  the  revelation  these  song- writers  make. 
Their  mirth  is  not  of  the  half-hearted  kind ;  it  is  loud, 
riotous,  scornful  of  decorum.  The  country  was  priest- 
ridden,  or  minister-and-elder-ridden ;  it  was  desperately 
poor;  life  for  the  greater  number  was  altogether  hard  and 
unlovely.  Yet  the  spirit  of  the  popular  singers  is  pre- 
vailingly and  even  immoderately  mirthful.  The  pieces  in 
the  Bannatyne  MS.  may,  and  probably  most  of  them  do, 
descend  from  a  time  anterior  to  the  religious  troubles  ; 
but  there  are  many  in  later  collections  which  can  only 
be  regarded  as  the  expression  of  joyousness  springing 
irrepressibly  from  the  midst  of  the  gloom.  Even  in  the 
heat  of  the  struggles  of  the  Covenant  humour  is  the 
most  conspicuous  quality. 

The  humorous  songs  cover  pretty  nearly  all  the  phases 
of  rural   life   which  are  susceptible  of  such  a   treatment. 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  207 

Courtship,  marriage,  matrimonial  disputes,  rustic  extrava- 
gance and  rustic  parsimony,  country  festivities,  bacchan- 
alian good-fellowship,  vagabondage — all  are  celebrated  in 
verses  as  racy  and  fresh  as  any  of  their  kind  in  existence. 
They  are  not  free  from  coarseness;  but  there  is  little  or 
nothing  in  them  which  merits  the  name  of  licentiousness. 
Time  in  this  case  has  happily  sunk  the  grosser  matter, 
and  carried  down  to  us  the  relatively  pure. 

The  favourite  subject  of  the  singer  is  almost  of  necessity 
love.  It  lends  itself  equally  to  a  seriously  sentimental  and 
to  a  comic  treatment.  The  songs  of  the  latter  description 
have  the  advantage  of  affording  much  information  inci- 
dentally as  to  the  condition  of  the  country  population. 
The  Wozcn'fig  of  Jok  and  Jynny,  from  which  a  quotation 
has  already  been  given,  furnishes,  through  the  vanity  of 
the  girl's  mother,  an  inventory  of  common  rustic  posses- 
sions, doubtless  somewhat  of  the  nature  of  a  caricature. 
So  too,  though  with  less  elaboration,  does  Miiirland 
Willie,  another  song  of  the  same  class  marked  Z  {i.e.  old) 
in  The  Tea  Table  Miscella?iy.  The  equipment  of  the  wooer, 
"with  durk  and  pistol  by  his  side,"  as  Burns  remarks, 
points  back  to  an  unsettled  state  of  the  country  when  there 
was  no  assurance  whether  he  who  rode  forth  so  furnished 
"would  tilt  with  lips  or  lances."  The  wooing  is  con- 
ducted with  a  frankness  which  results  in  a  speedy  agree- 
ment, and  yet  not  without  a  rude  courtesy.  The  famous 
song  of  The  Blythsome  Wedding,"^  which  is  unsurpassed  in 

1  This  piece  has  been  generally  ascribed  to  Francis  Semple  of  Bel- 
trees,  whose  father,  Robert  Semple,  is  believed  to  have  written  The 
Piper  of  Kilba7-chan.  Another  for  whom  The  Blythsome  Wedding  has 
been  claimed  is  Sir  William  Scott  of  Thirlestane;   but  the  grounds 


2o8  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

its  class,  depicts  with  wonderful  spirit  the  final  scene  to 
which  courtship  is  expected  to  lead.  It  bears  curious 
witness  to  the  prevalence  of  nicknames.  In  the  long  list 
of  expected  guests  there  are  but  two  or  three  who  are 
honoured  with  surnames,  all  the  rest  being  distinguished 
by  some  personal  appellative,  generally  referring  either  to 
profession  or  to  a  physical  peculiarity.  It  paints  too  with 
great  force  and  effect  the  barbarous  plenty  of  a  rustic  feast. 
The  author,  whoever  he  was,  had  an  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  details  of  Scotch  humble  life,  an  unfailing  flow 
of  language,  and  a  rich  gift  of  broad  humour.  Burns 
himself  rarely  portrayed  with  greater  vigour  a  scene  of 
rural  jollity.  Francis  Semple  has  been  credited  also  with 
the  song  of  Maggie  Lmider,  which  is  in  some  respects 
similar  to  The  Blythsome  Wedding.  No  copy  however  is 
known  earlier  than  Herd's  collection.  If,  as  is  probable, 
this  song  really  belongs  to  the  seventeenth  century,  it  is 
perhaps  the  most  remarkable  illustration  extant  of  the 
mirth  of  country  life ;  and  that  just  because  it  refers  to  no 
pre-determined  merry  gathering,  but  is  the  spontaneous  out- 
burst of  a  chance  meeting.  The  wandering  piper  and  the 
merry  dancer  prove  that  the  efforts  to  suppress  human 
nature  had  been  less  successful  than  they  seem  on  the 
surface  to  have  been ;  otherwise  the  piper's  profession 
could  not  have  survived.  And  he  was  not  the  only  one 
of  his  kind.  The  reference  to  Habbie  Simson  as  a  lost 
leader  in  the  art  shows  that  his  was  a  well-known  if 
irregular  occupation. 

on  which  it  is  assigned  to  either  of  them  are  so  unsatisfactory  that  it 
must  be  treated  as  anonymous;  nor  is  there  any  definite  means  of  deter- 
mining its  date  beyond  the  fact  that  it  first  appeared  in  Watson  in  1706. 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  209 

In  The  Blythsomc  Weddiyig,  Maggie  Lauder,  etc.,  the 
humour  is  shown  in  the  appreciative  and  sympathetic 
description  of  scenes  naturally  gay.  It  is  therefore  broad 
rather  than  sly.  But  the  mark  of  slyness  is  no  less  fre- 
quently present.  Sometimes  matrimonial  bickerings  give 
occasion  to  it,  sometimes  it  springs  from  the  preaching 
of  the  philosophy  of  parsimony.  Of  the  latter  description 
an  admirable  specimen  exists  in  My  jo  Janet,  which  first 
appeared  in  The  Tea  Table  Miscellany,  where  it  is  without 
mark  to  indicate  whether  it  was  then  old  or  new.  But 
though  the  age  of  the  verses  is  uncertain,  the  tune  at  least 
is  as  old  as  the  Straloch  and  Skene  MSS.  This  piece  is 
a  dialogue,  the  point  of  which  is  the  quiet  and  skilful 
parrying  of  a  country  beauty's  requests.  In  this,  as  in 
many  other  cases,  an  English  version  exists  prior  to  that 
of  Ramsay,  but  far  inferior,  and  rather  like  a  corruption 
than  an  original.  Somewhat  similar,  but  more  out-spoken, 
is  The  Cock-Laird  {i.e.  small  landowner),  which  is  generally 
attributed  to  Ramsay,  but  which  is  in  truth  an  old  song 
touched  up  and  made  a  little  more  decent,  and  also 
more  witty,  by  him.  An  equally  canny  philosophy  is 
inculcated  in  the  famous  old  song,  Tak  your  auld  cloak 
about  ye.  Of  this,  as  is  well  known  from  Othello,  England 
possessed  a  version;  and  as  it  cannot  be  traced  back  in 
Scotland  beyond  The  Tea  Table  Miscellany,  it  would  be 
worse  than  rash  to  affirm  its  origin  to  be  Scottish.  It 
may  be  interesting  however  to  quote  the  lines  of  the 
northern  version  which  correspond  with  those  in  Shake- 
speare : — 

"In  days  when  our  King  Robert  rang, 
His  trews  they  cost  but  half-a-croun  ; 
O 


2  I O  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

He  said  they  were  a  groat  ower  dear, 

And  ca'd  the  tailor  thief  and  loon  ; 
He  was  the  King  that  wore  a  croun, 

And  thou's  the  man  of  laigh  degree  : 
It's  pride  puts  a'  the  country  doun  ; 

Sae  tak  thy  auld  cloak  about  ye." 

In  this  instance  it  is  the  wife  who  preaches  thrift  and 
industry  to  the  husband ;  as  a  rule  the  parts  of  the  sexes 
are  reversed,  as  in  the  examples  spoken  of  above.  In  a 
different  key,  but  still  turning  on  marital  disputes,  is  Tke 
Barring  of  the  Door,  certainly  the  best  known  at  the 
present  day  of  all  its  class.  This  song  was  recovered  by 
Herd,  but  its  age  is  absolutely  unknown.  It  narrates  a 
ludicrous  adventure  with  inimitable  vigour,  and  well  de- 
serves the  favour  it  has  kept  for  over  a  hundred  years. 

There  is  hardly  any  phase  of  life,  however  serious  and 
even    terrible,    which    may    not    serve    the    comic    poet. 
Andrew  Fletcher  considered  vagrancy  in  Scotland  an  evil 
so  threatening   as    to  justify  the   proposal   to  reduce   the 
poorer    population    to    slavery.       His    less    philosophical 
countrymen,    careless    of   the    danger,    have    always    been 
keenly  alive  to   the  humours  of  a  life  cut  off  from  ordi- 
nary ties   and   responsibilities.      This   sympathy   finds   its 
most  exuberant  and  most   poetical  expression  in  Burns's 
Jolly  Beg^^ars.      Herd  has  preserved  a  song  of  nearly  the 
same  title  as  Burns's  poem.   The  Jolly  Beggar ;  and  The 
Tea    Table  Miscellany  contains   a   much   more  celebrated 
piece.  The  Gaberlunzie  Man.     The  authorship  of  both  has 
been  attributed   to  no  less  a  personage  than  James  V. ; 
but  there  is  no  evidence  sufficient  to  connect  them  with 
him.     In   Ramsay  The   Gaberlunzie  Man  is  marked  with 
the  letter  "J,"  which  may  stand  for  the  King;  but  even 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  2 1 1 

if  it  was  so  meant,  Ramsay's  authority  is  not  great. 
Whoever  was  the  writer,  his  work  is  admirably  done.  The 
gaberlunzie  is  as  void  of  care  as  any  of  Burns's  beggars ; 
and  he  succeeds  in  impressing  the  daughter  of  the  house 
in  which  he  finds  shelter  with  the  happiness  of  his  life. 
The  couple  face  the  world  with  light-hearted  glee  : — 

"Meantime,  far  hint  out  ower  the  lea, 
Fu'  snug  in  a  glen,  where  nane  could  see, 
The  twa,  with  kindly  sport  and  glee, 

Cut  frae  a  new  cheese  a  whang. 
The  prievin  was  guid — it  pleased  them  baith ; 
To  lo'e  her  aye  he  gae  her  his  aith  ; 
Quo'  she,  to  leave  thee  I  will  be  laith, 

My  winsome  gaberlunzie  man." 

In  the  ideal  society  such  scenes  and  such  subjects  would 
be  impossible  ;  but  until  some  approximation  is  made  to 
that  society  it  is  perhaps  not  to  be  regretted  that  they  can 
at  times  brighten  the  gaiety  of  nations.  Many  excellent 
people  of  the  present  day  see  however  nothing  but  evil  in 
a  cognate  class  of  songs  through  which  there  has  run 
for  generations  a  peculiarly  rich  strain  of  humour — the 
bacchanalian  songs.  A  large  number  of  the  songs  of 
humour  have  something  to  say  in  praise  of  drink  ;  some 
are  entirely  devoted  to  it ;  and  it  can  hardly  be  denied, 
whether  the  fact  be  matter  for  sorrow  or  not,  that  Bacchus 
has  bestowed  upon  his  votaries  no  small  measure  of  inspira- 
tion. Andro  and  his  Cutty  Gun,  one  of  Ramsay's  col- 
lection, is  what  Burns  called  it,  "  the  work  of  a  master." 
But  in  all  the  class  the  highest  place  certainly  belongs  to 
Todlin  Jlame,  which  the  same  critic,  competent  alike  from 
his  gift  of  poetry  and  his  spirit  of  conviviality,  pronounced 
"perhaps  the  first  bottle-song  that  ever  was  composed." 


212  SCOTTISH  LITERATURE. 

"When  I  hae  a  saxpence  under  my  thoom, 

Then  I  get  credit  in  ilka  toun  ; 

But,  aye  when  I'm  poor  they  bid  me  gang  by, 

Oh,  poverty  pairts  guid  company  ! 

Todiin  hame,  and  todlin  hame, 
Couldna  my  love  come  todlin  hame  ? 

•'  Fair  fa'  the  guid  wife  and  send  her  guid  sale  ; 

She  gies  us  white  bannocks  to  relish  her  ale  ; 

Syne,  if  that  her  tippeny  chance  to  be  sma', 

We  tak  a  guid  scour  o't,  and  ca't  awa'.  , 
Todlin  hame,  todlin  hame. 
As  round  as  a  neep  come  todlin  hame. 

"  My  kimmer  and  I  lay  doun  to  sleep. 

And  twa  pint-stoups  at  our  bed's  feet ; 

And  aye  when  we  waken'd  we  drank  them  dry  : — 

What  think  ye  o'  my  kimmer  and  I  ? 
Todlin  but,  and  todlin  ben, 
Sae  round  as  my  love  comes  todlin  hame. 

"  Leeze  me  on  liquor,  my  todlin  dow, 
Ye're  aye  sae  guid-humour'd  when  weetin'  your  mou' ; 
When  sober  sae  sour,  ye'll  fecht  wi'  a  flee. 
That  'tis  a  blithe  nicht  to  the  bairns  and  me, 
When  todlin  hame,  todlin  hame. 
When,  round  as  a  neep,  ye  come  todlin  hame." 

Poetry  which  is  strong  in  humour  is  seldom  or  never 
deficient  in  sentiment  and  pathos  ;  for  humour  impHes  the 
same  sympathy  on  which  these  quaUties  rest.  Accordingly 
we  find  that  the  popular  singers  of  Scotland  have  been 
from  the  earliest  times  equally  at  home  in  either  strain.  As 
the  audience  for  which  they  wrote  was  mainly  agricultural, 
there  being  practically  no  manufactures  and  no  large  town 
populations,  their  poetry  is  frequently  linked  with  agri- 
cultural  pursuits.      There   are   numerous    pastoral    songs, 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  213 

some  of  them  of  high  excellence.  These  songs  are  in 
no  way  related  to  the  artificial  pastoral  founded  upon 
classical  models  ;  it  is  no  Arcadia  which  they  picture,  but 
the  actual  life  of  Scottish  shepherds  and  husbandmen. 
The  poets  of  the  eighteenth  century  did,  it  is  true,  reduce  it 
to  conventionality  ;  but  a  number  of  songs  have  been  pre- 
served in  which  the  earlier,  simpler,  and  more  natural  note 
is  heard.  Such  are  Ettrick  Banks,  which  appeared  in  the 
Orpheus  Caledonius,  and  to  which  Ramsay  gave  the  place  of 
honour  in  the  fourth  volume  of  The  Tea  Table  Miscellany. 
Even  finer  is  the  Ew-bughts  Marion,  which  Ramsay  marks 
with  the  letter  Q,  to  indicate  that  it  is  an  old  song  with 
additions.  But  more  interest  still  attaches  to  O  the  ewe- 
buglitins  bonnie,  for  the  sake  of  its  author,  the  Lady  Grizzel 
Baillie,  whose  faithful  attendance  upon  her  father.  Sir 
Patrick  Home,  when  he  was  lurking  in  concealment  in 
the  family  vault  of  Polwarth,  forms  one  of  the  best  known 
and  most  interesting  of  the  stories  of  the  sufferings  of  the 
Covenanters.  She  was  the  first  of  a  numerous  band  of 
ladies  of  rank  who  laboured  to  purify,  and  who  embellished 
while  they  purified,  the  songs  of  their  country.  Only  two 
songs  of  Lady  Grizzel's  are  known.  A  stanza  of  one  of 
them,  Were  na  my  heart  licht  I  wad  die,  was  quoted, 
with  a  reference  to  himself,  by  Burns  in  his  own  later 
and  sadder  days  : — 

"  His  bonnet  stood  aye  fu'  round  on  his  broo  ; 
His  auld  ane  look'd  aye  as  weel  as  some's  new  ; 
But  now  he  lets  't  wear  ony  gate  it  will  hing, 
And  casts  himself  dowie  upon  the  corn-bing." 

Her  pastoral   song  is  merely  a  fragment,  but  a  beautiful 
one  : — 


2 1 4  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURK. 

"  O,  the  ewe-buchtin's  bonnie,  baith  e'ening  and  mom. 
When  our  blythe  shepherds  play  on  the  bog-reed  and  horn  ; 
While  we're  niilkinfj,  they're  lilting,  baith  pleasant  and  clear — 
But  my  heart  's  like  to  break  when  I  think  on  my  dear. 

"  O,  the  shepherds  take  pleasure  to  blow  on  the  horn, 
To  raise  up  their  flocks  o'  sheep  soon  i'  the  morn  ; 
On  the  bonnie  green  banks  they  feed  pleasant  and  free. 
But,  alas,  my  dear  heart,  all  my  sighing  's  for  thee." 

The  love  songs  are  as  rich  and  varied  as  the  songs  of 
humour.  Aspiration,  hesitancy,  success,  the  praise  of  the 
maiden's  charms  or  of  the  youth's  strength  and  courage, 
the  pleasures  of  reunion,  and  the  wail  of  the  betrayed 
and  forsaken,  all  come  within  the  compass  of  the  singer. 
None  of  its  class  can  surpass  Aye  ivaukiii,  O  ! — a  perfect 
song,  v.'hich  has  had  the  fortune  to  be  the  subject  of  a 
perfect  criticism^  : — 

*'  O,  I'm  wat,  wat, 

O,  I'm  wat  and  weary  ; 
Yet  fain  wad  I  rise  and  rin 

If  I  thocht  I  would  meet  my  dearie. 
Aye  waukin',  O  ! 

Waukin'  aye,  and  weary  ; 
Sleep  I  can  get  nane 

For  thinkin'  o'  my  dearie. 

"  Simmer  's  a  pleasant  time, 
Flowers  o'  every  colour  ; 
The  water  rins  ower  the  heugh, 
And  I  long  for  my  true  lover. 

"  When  I  sleep  I  dream. 
When  1  wauk  I'm  eerie. 
Sleep  I  can  get  nane, 

For  thinkin'  o'  my  dearie. 

1  Tiie   criticism   referred   to  is  that  of  Ur.  John  Brown  in   Home 
Subsecizae  ;  and  the  song  is  here  given  according  to  his  version  of  it. 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  21  S 

"  Lanely  nicht  comes  on, 
A'  the  lave  are  sleepin' ; 
I  think  on  my  true  love, 

And  blear  my  een  wi'  greetin'. 

"  Feather  beds  are  saft— 

Pentit  rooms  are  bonnie  ; 
But  ae  kiss  o'  my  dear  love 
Better  's  far  than  ony. 

"  O  for  Friday  nicht  ! 

Friday  at  the  gloamin' ; 
O  for  Friday  nicht — 
Friday  's  lang  o'  comin'  !  " 

The  collection  of  Herd  includes  a  few  wonderfully 
beautiful  fragments.  The  exquisite  lines  beginning,  0  gin 
my  love  were  yon  red  rose,  are  widely  known  through  Burns. 
Another,  the  song  of  a  forsaken  woman,  though  perhaps  less 
popular,  has  an  equal  charm  : — 

"  False  luve,  and  hae  ye  played  me  this, 
In  the  simmer,  'mid  the  flowers  ? 
I  sail  repay  ye  back  again, 

In  the  winter  'mid  the  showers. 

"  Bot  again,  dear  luve,  and  again,  dear  luve. 
Will  ye  not  turn  again  ? 
As  ye  look  to  ither  women, 
Sail  I  to  ither  men." 

More  characteristic  of  Scotland  is  the  charming  song 
of  reunion.  Here  awd ,  there  awcC.  It  is  one  of  those 
which  underwent  revision  at  the  hands  of  Burns ;  but 
though  he  has  added  some  beauties  he  has  destroyed 
others.  There  is  perhaps  nothing  in  the  old  version  as 
given  by  Herd  equal  to  the  lines, 

"  Now  welcome  the  simmer  and  welcome  my  Willie, 
The  simmer  to  nature,  my  Willie  to  me  "  ; 


2 1 6  SCO  TTISH  LIT  ERA  TURE. 

but,  as   a  whole,  the  old  song  is  the  finer  of  the  two  : — 

"  Here  awa',  there  awa',  here  awa'  Willie, 
Here  awa',  there  awa',  here  awa'  hame  ! 
Lang  have  I  sought  thee,  dear  have  I  Ijought  thee, 
Now  I  have  gotten  my  Willie  again. 

*'  Thro'  the  lang  muir  I  have  followed  my  Willie  ; 

Through  the  lang  muir  I  have  followed  him  hame, 
Whatever  betide  us,  nocht  shall  divide  us  ; 
Love  now  rewards  all  my  sorrow  and  pain. 

"  Here  awa',  there  awa',  here  awa'  Willie, 
Here  awa',  there  awa',  here  awa'  hame  ! 
Come,  Love,  believe  me,  nothing  can  grieve  me. 
Ilka  thing  pleases  while  Willie  's  at  hame." 

Songs  with  a  strain  of  pathos  such  as  this  take  always  a 
deeper  hold  upon  the  feelings  than  those  of  a  lighter 
character.  The  effect  is  not  lessened  when  the  pathos 
is  unrelieved  by  a  happy  end.  Of  the  older  songs  which 
are  purely  pathetic,  two  have  been  generally  singled 
out  as  of  surpassing  excellence.  One  of  these,  commonly 
known  as  Lady  Anne  Botlnveli's  Lament,  has  been 
proved  to  be  of  English  origin ;  the  other,  Waly,  Waly, 
whose  poetic  merit  is  at  least  equal,  is  Scotch,  Attempts 
have  been  made  to  give  a  historical  account  of  it;  but 
there  does  not  seem  to  be  sufficient  groimd  for  identifying 
the  song  with  any  particular  person  or  event.  In 
Ramsay  it  bears  the  mark  of  unknown  age,  Z. 

"  O  waly,  waly  up  the  bank. 

And  waly,  waly  down  the  brae, 
And  waly,  waly  yon  burn-side. 

Where  I  and  my  love  wont  to  gae. 
I  lean'd  my  back  unto  an  aik, 

I  thought  it  was  a  trusty  tree. 
But  first  it  bow'd,  and  syne  it  brak, 

Sae  my  true  love  did  lightly  me. 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  217 

"  O  waly,  waly,  but  love  be  bonny, 

A  little  time  while  it  is  new, 
But  when  'tis  auld,  it  waxeth  cauld, 

And  fades  away  like  morning-dew. 
O  wherefore  should  I  busk  my  head  ? 

Or  wherefore  should  I  kame  my  hair  ? 
For  my  true  love  has  me  forsook, 

And  says  he'll  never  love  me  mair. 

"  Now  Arthur  Seat  shall  be  my  bed. 

The  sheets  shall  ne'er  be  fyl'd  by  me, 
Saint  Anton's  well  shall  be  my  drink, 

Since  my  true  love  has  forsaken  me. 
Martinmas  wind  when  wilt  thou  blaw, 

And  shake  the  green  leaves  off  the  tree  ? 
O  gentle  death,  when  wilt  thou  come  ? 

For  of  my  life  I  am  weary. 

"  'Tis  not  the  frost  that  freezes  fell, 

Nor  blawing  snaw's  inclemencie  : 
'Tis  not  sic  cauld  that  maks  me  cry. 

But  my  love's  heart  grown  cauld  to  me. 
When  we  came  in  by  Glasgow  town. 

We  were  a  comely  sight  to  see  ; 
My  love  was  clad  in  the  black  velvet, 

And  I  mysell  in  cramasie. 

"  But  had  I  wist  before  I  kiss'd, 

That  love  had  been  sae  ill  to  win, 
I'd  lock'd  my  heart  in  a  case  of  gold. 

And  pinn'd  it  with  a  silver  pin. 
Oh,  oh  !  if  my  young  babe  were  born, 

And  set  upon  the  nurse's  knee, 
And  I  mysell  were  dead  and  gane  ; 

For  a  maid  again  I'll  never  be." 

But  though  the  most  copious  illustrations  of  pathos  are  to 
be  found  among  the  love  songs,  there  are  some  exquisite 
touches  of  the  kind  referring  to  other  concerns  of  life. 
There  are  few  more  beautiful  verses  among  the  songs  than 


2 1 8  .  SCO  TTISH  LITER  A  TURE. 

those  of  Armsirofig's  Goodnight,  in  the  Border  Minstrelsy. 
"The  following  verses,"  says  Scott,  "are  said  to  have  been 
composed  by  one  of  the  Armstrongs,  executed  for  the 
murder  of  Sir  John  Carmichael  of  Edrom,  Warden  of  the 
Middle  Marches.  The  tune  is  popular  in  Scotland ;  but 
whether  these  are  the  original  words,  will  admit  of  a  doubt." 
The  murder  of  Sir  John  Carmichael  occurred  in  1600.  The 
verses  run  thus  : — 

"  This  night  is  my  departing  night, 
For  here  nae  langcr  must  I  stay  ; 
There's  neither  friend  nor  foe  o'  mine, 
But  wishes  me  away. 

"  What  I  have  done  thro'  lack  of  wit, 
I  never,  never  can  recall  ; 
I  hope  ye're  a'  my  friends  as  yet ; 

Goodnight,  and  joy  be  with  you  all  !" 

Again,  in  the  song  of  Leader  Haiiglis  and  Yarrotv,  the  poet 
takes  upon  himself  a  wider  range  of  sympathy.  Not  his 
own  fate,  nor  the  feeling  of  his  personal  friends,  but  the 
state  of  the  country,  the  contrast  between  the  present  and 
the  past,  is  the  source  of  his  feeling. 

"  Sing  Erslington  and  Cowdcnknowes, 

Where  Homes  had  ance  commanding  ; 
And  Drygrange,  with  the  milk-white  yowes, 

'Twixt  Tweed  and  Leader  standing  : 
The  bird  that  flees  through  Red  path  trees 

And  Gladswood  banks  ilk  morrow, 
May  chant  and  sing  sweet  Leader  Ilaughs 

And  bonnie  howms  of  Yarrow. 

"  But  minstrel  Burne  cannot  assuage 
His  grief,  while  life  endureth. 
To  see  the  changes  of  this  age. 
Which  fleeting  time  procureth  : 


THE  EARLIER  SONGS.  219 

For  many  a  place  stands  in  hard  case, 

Where  blyth  folk  kcn'd  nae  sorrow, 
With  Homes  that  dwelt  on  Leader-side, 

And  Scotts  that  dwelt  on  Yarrow." 

In  these  lines  we  may  note  the  skill  with  which  the  old 
bard  uses  proper  names,  an  art  which  Mr.  Palgrave  justly 
regards  as  one  of  the  marks  of  the  true  poet.  The  piece 
was  the  work  of  a  man  named  Burne,  one  of  the  last  who  in 
the  seventeenth  century  plied  the  trade  of  minstrel ;  and 
one  who,  as  a  member  of  a  profession  sinking  under  the 
changes  of  fleeting  time,  was  entitled  to  complain  of  those 
changes,  and  of  the  altered  fortunes  of  great  families.  This 
lament  of  the  minstrel  over  the  passing  away  of  all  things 
old,  may  fitly  close  the  notice  of  the  older  songs.  Those 
of  a  later  date  belong  to  a  state  of  society  widely  different, 
especially  upon  that  Border  land  to  which  the  minstrel 
belonged. 


END   OF   VOL.    I. 


GLASGOW  :    PRINTED    AT    THE    UNIVERSITY   PRESS    BY   ROBERT   MACLEHOSE. 


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